


Making Memories, Wasting Wishes

by Jeannyboy



Series: Recovery [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Amnesia, Country Music, Death, Everything happens for a reason, Heartbreak, Hospital Setting, Love, M/M, Sadness, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Wishes, amnesiac hanzo, apparently everyone has been crying while reading this, darlin', guitar playing jesse, nameless hanzo, paper cranes, second chap drastically different, shimada castle setting, violence but not well depicted, years of absence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 21:10:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10625211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeannyboy/pseuds/Jeannyboy
Summary: Hanzo wakes up with no memory as to who he is or why he is in a hospital missing his legs.This is a story about how a cowboy that plays guitar for hospitalized children falls in love with a nameless amnesiac and they create a life together.





	1. If Love Songs Could Fix Everything

**Author's Note:**

> First things first-- Hanzo's name is used throughout the entire work because, as a reader, you know who he is. He however, does not. It is a major theme throughout the story, please bear with me until the end.
> 
> Secondly--I did my best to keep this within the realm of possibility. This is not how I wish it had happened, this is just a hospital AU that came to mind while at work one day.
> 
> Lastly--This is the longest, finished work, that I have produced to date. I got really into it and hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Here is a list of all the songs either mentioned or actually featured in case you would like to listen to the actual song for the scene.  
> Chicken Fried- Zac Brown Band  
> Boot Scootin' Boogie-Brooks & Dunn  
> Grundy County Auction- John Michael Montgomery  
> Rain is a Good Thing-Luke Bryan  
> Good Time- Alan Jackson  
> Wild at Heart- Gloriana  
> Stealing Cinderella-Chuck Wicks  
> Kissed You (Good Night)- Gloriana  
> If You're Goin' Through Hell- Rodney Atkins  
> Why Don't We Just Dance- Josh Turner  
> My Maria-Brooks and Dunn  
> All I Wanna Do- Sugerland  
> Last Dollar (Fly Away)-Tim McGraw  
> I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing- Aerosmith
> 
> As always, comments and creative criticism are welcome. Enjoy!

When Hanzo came to, it was to sterile lights and the smell of cleanliness that made you gag. His mind raced with only one thought: _run._ He tried to kick the paper thin sheets off of himself, intending to use the window to his right as an escape route...

Letting his gaze travel down his body, his breath caught in his throat when he saw the empty space where his calves and feet should be, the covering stopping abruptly at the space a few inches above his knees before it continued flat on the bed.

The moment his lungs started to burn and he breathed in a shuttering breath was the same instant memories flashed before him.

_Blood was everywhere. It shone wetly in the bands of light that filtered from the street lights outside the abandoned warehouse. The coppery stench of it clogged his nose, choking him as the substance soaked through every stitch on him, bathing him in crimson. His hair plastered sickeningly to his face as he struggled to claw his way towards that bow and sonic arrow that had been knocked from his grasp. Pain sliced through his nerves with every movement, threatening the obscure his mind with darkness. His hands found the bow, grip slick as he knocked the arrow into place, swinging his arms around wildly at the barely audible sound of approaching footsteps._

_A fire sparked inside of him and he could feel the power welling inside of him as he screamed-_

He wasn't aware that he'd started to actually scream and thrash in his bed until two nurses were on him, holding his arms down, while a third rushed to inject him with something from a well placed needle. He thrashed for another few moments, erratic beeping furthering his need to bolt before the drug slid quickly through his veins, pitching him back into waves of unconsciousness.

 

The light was different outside his window when he woke again, almost twilight versus the glare of the midday sun. The lights in his room had been cut off, the one on the wall behind his bed the only one shining. He felt groggy, like a fine mist had crowded his mind, making his movements sluggish.

Thick anger no longer swamped his mind as he took in his surroundings. He was obviously in a hospital, the beeping of the machines at first masking the barely audible twanging from outside his open door.

After taking into account the lack of his legs, making sure he hadn't been dreaming, he took stock of the wounds that covered the rest of his body. Whatever had landed him in the hospital had taken its fair share of him beforehand. He was covered in bandages. His right shoulder and left side seemed to be the most heavily damaged part of him. He could feel the pull of stitches underneath, but no pain, there were too many drugs in his system for that. The music outside was enough of a distraction to take his mind from the uncomfortable tug underneath the gauze.

Craning his neck, Hanzo tried to look further down the hall, his attempt unsuccessful when it became apparent that if he leaned any further, he would fall ungracefully from his bed. So he sat there, waiting for Murphy's Law to come into effect.

Finally, after the hands had moved around the face of the clock 43 times and the sun had disappeared completely, a tall man with dark hair and tired eyes strode into his room, humming. He looked at the machines for a moment before a double take at Hanzo's face had his lips turning up into a smile, lighting up his eyes.

“Ah, you're awake.” He scribbled something on the clipboard in his hand. “I'm Dr. Grant, I was just making sure your IV drips were functioning properly, hoping you hadn't pulled any out in another fit like the one you displayed earlier.” Hanzo remembered the nurses holding him down, the wild beeping.

The doctor paused, possibly waiting for a response before he continued. “I was actually wondering, since you're awake, if you could tell me who you are.”

That took Hanzo by surprise. He'd thought they'd known who he was. He was....

He was...

He looked up into those tired eyes, his brow knitted in confusion. “I'm sorry...but I do not know.”

Doctor Grant looked down at his clipboard, flipping a few pages back and forth. He clicked his pen a few times, a nervous habit.

“You don't know your name?”

Hanzo shook his head.

Dr. Grant scribbled on a sheet.

“You don't know how you got here or...” His words tapered off, his arm gesturing to Hanzo's lower body, or lack there of.

Hanzo shook his head once again. “ The last thing I remember is waking up earlier.”

The confusion was back in full. No amount of medication could obscure the curious mystery of who he was and how he'd come to be lying in a bed with only two thirds of his body.

Dr. Grant sighed, clicked his pen a final time before sticking it back in his pocket. “We were hoping you could clear that up for us. You came in on an ambulance, passed out cold. EMT's didn't know what to make of it. Said they were called to an obscure address that led to one of the shipping yards and found you lying in a pool of your own blood. Said they rushed you here, no ID, no nothin on ya.”

Hanzo thought to the flash of memories that had bombarded him hours before. He'd had a bow.

“Nothing?” He didn't understand why his chest clenched tight when the doctor shook his head.

“Nope. The clothes you were wearing when you were brought in were soaked in blood and torn to shreds, we had to throw them away.”

Hanzo's hands had started to shake. He was irritated when he saw the doctor's were still and he was well composed.

“Are you doing alright though? Any pain?”

Hanzo shook his head again. He could feel the medicine making it's way through his system, keeping the sensations in his legs at a dull throb.

Dr. Grant moved further down the bed, asking permission before he carefully pulled the sheets down to expose the stumps of Hanzo's legs. Hanzo couldn't see it but the doctor said his bandages were bloody and needed changing.

“I'll send a nurse in to do that. Do you have any questions for me?”

Hanzo hesitated before asking. “What's going to happen to me?”

Dr. Grant's shoulders seemed to lose their tension as he sighed. “Well, right now, our biggest concern is keeping your wounds clean and infection free. Once they're healed, we'll see about getting you some temporary prosthesis. You'll then need to go through physical therapy to learn how to walk again.”

“How long will that be?”

The doctor shrugged a little. “It really is up to how long it takes you to recuperate. Bodies are like minds, they're all different. Some take longer than others, some have a very short recuperation time. With you, we're looking at a standard 6-8 months.”

He continued to speak but Hanzo was no longer listening.

6-8 months before he had any hopes of leaving, any hopes of finding out who he was.

 

 

It was music filtering through the doorway that woke Hanzo. Once he had started to wake normally, his head no longer foggy with drugs to restrain him, his monitors had been turned down so that they weren't as distracting. Nurses came in regularly to check on him, his vitals, making sure he had enough pain medication coursing through his veins.

But his last check up had been hours before he'd nodded off, nothing to do but sleep, and he was awake now, ears straining to hear the notes that were drifting in from the hallway. He had been moved to what could be called a “residential wing” for patients like him that had long recoveries ahead of them. It was mostly quiet, but every now and then, like today, Hanzo heard a now familiar twang in the air.

He lay there and listened to what little he could hear, no words just notes pinging from an instrument, for about an hour until it stopped. Shortly afterwards, his nurse came in to check on him.

“You doing alright, sir?” With no one knowing his name, everyone had resorted to calling him 'sir' which felt ridiculous. He warranted no such respect to be called such a title but he didn't argue once it became clear there was no other, appropriate, alternative.

“I am fine. What was that...music that was playing? I've heard it many times.” He watched her as she looked over the clipboard at the end of his bed. Her smile softened and she looked him in the eye.

“Oh that's Jesse. He volunteers and plays music for the kids. The children's wing is just on the other side of the nurse station which is only one room down from yours. He likes to visit any child we have so he'll go around the entire building, making sure to play for all of them. Lifts their little spirits.”

Her endearing smile stayed on her lips through her visit as she pulled back his sheets, checking and changing his bandages on his legs and those across his body. They were all healing well, she said, the stitches looking less angry and red, the minor abrasions, like the cuts across his face, were scabbing over now.

“Well, sir, you're looking as fit as one can be in your situation.” She moved to the end of the bed, picking his clipboard up again. “Alright, last question: do you remember anything at all about the time before you were being treated?”

Her quizzical eyes were bright in her fatigued face. She waited expectantly, patiently, as she allowed him to think back. His memories were shallow, only the ones he had made while sitting in his hospital bed. Everything else was grainy and shrouded. He shook his head slowly, watching her shoulders sag, just a little, as she scribbled a short note on his clipboard and bid him goodbye.

 

Sitting in his bed day after day with nothing but the weather channel was taking a toll on Hanzo's nerves. At first he would sleep through most of the days, waking only when his nurse brought him his meals or needed to perform a checkup.

He was healing steadily, average for someone in his health, which was good other than his wounds.

His memories hadn't come back yet, no matter how much he probed at his mind to reveal its secrets. He found that he _knew_ things without having to be told, like the tattoo that took his entire left arm and pectoral had to do with his family and that his hair had always been long enough to pull up into a hair tie; yet nothing of importance had made itself known to him.

The days drew on slowly with nothing to do but wait. One day while his nurse Clara was checking his bandages, he'd torn a corner off one of the pamphlets on the stand next to his bed, ones they'd left while he was asleep, about prosthesis, folding the square neatly and precisely until a tiny paper crane sat on the table next to him.

Clara went to pick up her clipboard, saw it, and gently picked it up.

“Did you just make this?”

Hanzo stared up at her, his gaze switching between her cornflower eyes to the bird. “Yes?”

She stared at him, her jaw cocked to the side. “Huh. Was this something you remembered how to do?”

He shrugged. “I just saw the paper and did it. I didn't have to think about it. It just came naturally.”

“But it's probably something someone taught you, right?”

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “I suppose so. It's like learning to speak, someone teaches you.”

She sat the bird down, hanging his clipboard haphazardly on the hook at the end of his bed as she rushed out of the room, returning a few minutes later with a colorful stack of paper. She looked proud of herself as she sat the stack down with gusto on the nightstand.

He stared at her for a short moment, taking in her sparkling grin, hands placed firmly on her hips. “What's that?”

“Well in your current state, the best way to fight amnesia is to try and recover your memories by looking at pictures of your past or do some activity you used to do. You didn't have any problems with that bird so I guessed, while you don't have anything better to do, you might as well do _something_ that could help. The kids let me have some of their craft paper.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Isn't there some myth about a wish if you make a hundred cranes?”

“It's one thousand.” Hanzo's reply was instant and made her grin wider.

“Well maybe you can make 'em all and wish your memories back. Gonna be in here a while from what Doc Free anticipates.”

Hanzo nodded, staring absently at the stack of paper. It wouldn't hurt to do something, even if it was just folding squares of paper into birds he could imagine flying out the window like he so desperately wanted to.

 

The first few days he made good progress. Tiny paper cranes littered the stand by his bed, spilling over onto the floor when they overwhelmed the table top. Clara brought him an empty file box she sat underneath the stand to catch the ones that fell. It steadily filled, spilling over onto the floor once more. Clara shook her head, a smirk on her lips as she found another box to put more in.

“You've got quite the flock there.”

Hanzo shrugged, finishing up another the color of fresh cut grass before adding it to the mountain that threatened to topple over.

“How many you think you've made?”

“That one made three hundred eightyyyyy two.” Hanzo picked up the pen on his lap, making a new tally in the column he's labeled '300'.

Clara whistled, looking at his clipboard. “Any new developments with your name?”

Hanzo picked up a pre-prepared yellow square and shook his head, dark eyes studious on the piece of paper in his hands.

 

Without him sleeping through the day, Hanzo found himself with a sort of schedule that one dreams of having if they have a busy life to get away from. With no recollection of who he is or somewhere he's supposed to be, it drove him mad. The cranes did an okay job of filling the blank space in his mind, but eventually, the consistent music from down the hall started to trickle in, flirting with his curiosity without him really meaning to think about it.

Another week had passed by the time his leg wounds were deemed healed well enough for him to use a wheelchair. Clara rolled one in, a huge smile on her face as she parked it beside his bed.

“What's that?” His hands stilled as he looked up from the blue crane he was working on.

“Your new transportation. I'm sure you'd like to get out of this room.”

Hanzo stared at it, his lips pursed.

It took her a few minutes, in which Hanzo attempted to ignore her by making another three cranes, before she taunted him out of the bed and into the chair. She helped him a few times, making him move from one to the other five consecutive times before she decided he could do it without any help.

“I mean, you have excellent upper body musculature so I doubt you'll have any problems.”

Hanzo gave her a dismissive huff and continued making his cranes, number 452 in his hands, until she finished with his checkup.

“Do you remember who you are?”

“Working on it.”

She gave him a hopeful glance.

He sighed. “Not yet.”

 

 

 

Three days passed with Hanzo staring at the wheelchair defiantly.

Three days of psyching himself up before he attempted the feat himself, the music echoing up the hallway too intriguing for him to bear much longer without investigation. Almost every day he had stopped his progress to listen to what he had now discerned to be an acoustic guitar. He'd watch the clock as an hour passed before the hallway was filled with the usual medical chatter from the nurses and patients that, like Hanzo, had been given free reign of the hallways in their own wheelchairs and walkers.

He wasn't sure if he'd been brave in the life he couldn't remember, but if he had been, he was sure his past self would sneer at the caution he'd taken with his new life. He watched the other patients pass down the hallway, usually helped by a nurse as they made slow progress down the sterile tiles. Some of the kids would trot down the hallway, always quiet and courteous of the other patients. He always feigned sleep if they turned their heads to his open door. He hadn't been ready for any other contact outside of his new doctor and Clara.

She seemed startled when she'd walked in one day and saw him sitting in his wheelchair.

“Going somewhere?” Her smile was easy, complimenting her kind disposition.

“Thought I might...stretch my legs.” His lips canted up on one side and he was pleased to see she wasn't completely horrified by his dark humor.

She regained her momentary slip of composure and approached him. “Well slow down there, fly boy. We've gotta go through your checkup first.” They went through the motions in this new position, ending with the familiar question of “do you remember anything?” to which he once again shook his head before she waved goodbye, heading down the hall to her next patient.

He waited a full ten minutes before releasing the brake and wheeling himself carefully over to the doorway. He was hesitant, breath rattling in his chest as it tightened with anxiety. There was no way his past self was this anxious. With the strange wounds he'd gathered and the tattoo that curled around his arm, there had to be some convoluted past he had left behind.

As the bright light from the hallway washed over the stumps of his legs, he peered out around the doorway. The hallway itself was relatively clutter free, the majority of machines gathered in the center where the two hallways branched from. There sat the circular nurses station he'd heard laughter bubbling from. Further past them he could see the children's wing, decorated with brightly colored pieces of paper, a few kids milling about in a mixture of pajamas and yellow hospital smocks. Hanzo himself had been given two white tshirts and two pairs of navycotton shorts after his first week in the hospital to escape the embarrassment of the standard issue green smocks he'd woken in the first day.

He sat in his doorway for a while just watching everyone else as they passed down the hallway. Some of the children played a quiet tag, trotting past him, watching him curiously, but not making conversation. He watched as one of the nurses, not Clara but another lady, dark skinned and bubbly, told the children to be careful around him.

“He's not dangerous,” her dark eyes had flitted to him briefly, “he just needs his rest.” Hanzo was thankful for her intervention, even if it pained him to admit it. Something sparked in his mind, a fondness for young children, though no memory presented itself with the feeling.

Hanzo had sat in his doorway for hours before he even realized it. Looking at the clock that was nearing 2:00, he realized he'd been sitting there through his usual nap he'd take around midday. The flurry of movement in the children's wing grabbed his attention as they poured out of their rooms, some on foot, others in wheelchairs such as his own, a parent or two sitting in chairs at the end of the hall with their sick child on their lap. They were all at the far end of the hallway, looking back towards him, no the elevator, in expectation. The clock's hands reached the bold 2 on the face of it when, almost as if on cue, the doors opened and a man strolled out with the thick sound of boots on tile.

Hanzo watched as a shaggy man in a cowboy getup, complete with spurs jingling on his boots and a hat perched on his head clutching a guitar case in one hand made his way towards the children. A burst of sound that Hanzo somehow always tuned out erupted from the children as he picked his way through them into the center of the circle they had made.

He placed a hand on the tops of some of their heads, ruffling short hair or patting bald heads affectionately until he placed his case down and took the guitar out, looping the strap around his shoulders. He pivoted, talking and smiling at the children who greeted him with enthusiasm. Hanzo straightened considerably when the cowboy turned so he could see his face.

From what Hanzo's sharp eyes could make out, he was young and rugged, very handsome in his opinion. The beginnings of a beard shadowed his jaw, tanned skin covering well muscled arms that held the guitar in place as he strummed the strings with practiced ease.

He couldn't hear any of the words the man spoke but when he started singing, it echoed through the two hallways beautifully. Now that Hanzo sat in the doorway instead of being cooped up in his room, he could properly hear the notes that came from the other wing.

 

_You know I like my chicken fried._

_Cold beer on a Friday night._

_And the radio uuuuuup._

 

The children started giggling and clapping along as he sang. A few harmonizing with him while others babbled the parts they didn't know until the chorus came back around.

Hanzo watched as the cowboy danced around the circle of kids, leaning down to allow the kids to press their faces against his, only to pull back in a giggling mess as he rubbed his whiskers against their soft skin.

He continued to watch as the man rolled through a whole hour of songs, at one time helping the kids to line up and down the hallway to do a line dance as he bellowed out a song Hanzo took was called “Boot Scootin' Boogie.”

The man was at the head of the group, strumming the guitar as he stomped his boots to the beat.

 

_Yeah heel toe do si do_ __  
_Come on baby let's go boot scootin'_ __  
_Oh cadillac blackjack baby meet me out back_ __  
_We're gonna boogie_ __  
_Oh, get down, turn around, go to town_ _  
_ _Boot scootin' boogie_

 

Ghost limbs. That's what it's called when you swear you can feel a lost limb moving like it would if you still had it. Hanzo could feel himself tapping his right foot along to the rhythm, which of course was ludicrous. He was enjoying himself watching from his safe spot in his doorway. He'd glanced around once or twice, anxious he'd be caught enjoying such a simple pleasure. Any time he swung his head to the right side to that of his own wing, he saw no one. One of the nurses, the same one who'd spoken to the children about him, glanced down the hall with a smile at him, to which he'd quickly stilled his hand that tapped his thigh, clearing his throat like he had something to hide.

It was a little after 3:00 when the cowboy ended his last song of the day and, to the protest of everyone, started to pack his guitar away. He smiled and apologized, claiming his hat from that of a bald child that couldn't be older than 7, and backed away. He was like the pied piper as the children scampered after him until the nurses and few parents ushered them back into their rooms for their daily medications.

Hanzo watched as the man stopped at the nurses' station, propping his elbows on the top of the counter, leaning to talk with Clara who had returned from a lunch break. He watched the two, a friendly distance between them as they talked, easy smiles on both their faces. Clara gestured down the hall and the strangers' eyes drew to Hanzo immediately.

In a rush, Hanzo tried his best to move the wheelchair back into his room, forgetting about the brake. After fumbling for a few heart pounding moments, he released it and slid a few feet, waiting for his head to stop spinning with embarrassment. He waited there for minutes until he heard those boots clacking against the tile, coming closer. His breath caught as he heard them stop, seemingly right outside his room.

“Howdy, Mrs. Blakely.” He saw fingers curl around the metal of his doorway, but no man appeared. Hanzo's breath came out in a rush, like an unexpected gale of wind on a sunny day.

The frail voice of the woman in the room next to Hanzo could be heard, barely, from where she was undoubtedly still huddled in her bed. “Why hello Jesse.”

“Didja enjoy the music today?”

“I heard some of it. It was very nice. Very sweet of you to play for the children.”

The man, Jesse, chuckled. “Shucks, ma'am, just doin' what I can. Any requests for tomorrow?”

Mrs. Blakely seemed delighted as she responded. “Oh, honey, you don't gotta play no songs for me.”

“Oh, c'mon. How bout your favorite?” Hanzo could practically hear the smile on the old woman's face.

“Jesse you're too good to this old woman.”

“What old woman?”

They laughed together, Jesse bid her goodbye, those tanned fingers disappearing from the doorway. Hanzo listened until those boots clacked onto the elevator and were gone.

He didn't know his heart was beating so fast until Clara came to check on him only minutes afterward, commenting how fast his pulse was, a grin on her face.

 

It became something of a routine now, for Hanzo to wake up in the morning, get settled in his wheelchair and continue to make his flock grow. He would allow Clara to check him and wait for 2:00 to roll around where he would sit in his doorway and watch the antics of Jesse and the children until the man left.

After he'd play through his songs, he would walk back towards the nurses' station, eyes seeking Hanzo out until the latter ducked back into his room, waiting patiently to hear the elevator leave with the other man safely inside.

This went on for about another week before Hanzo's doctor came to see him one day, checking his leg wounds.

“Well I'd say you're all healed up.”

Hanzo stared at Dr. Freeman until she looked away from his clipboard.

“Any questions?”

“What does that mean, exactly? My being healed?”

She replaced his chart on its hook, placing her pen in her pocket before crossing her dark hands in front of her. “Now we get to start you on some physical therapy once your prosthetics arrive and are fitted comfortably. This will be the hard part of your recovery I'm afraid.”

Hanzo sat there, taking everything in. He'd been in the hospital for about a month. If Dr. Grant's earlier calculation was correct, he might be able to leave in another five, seven at the latest.

“Alright.” Hanzo resigned that he'd work his hardest to recover quickly and get out so he could figure out who he was. He couldn't count on his fruitless attempt of some stupid myth that one got a wish with a thousand cranes. It was something he knew couldn't happen, but it didn't stop his mind from playing around with the idea.

Foolish hope.

“Well if you don't have any more questions, I'll leave you with your nurse and keep you updated on your new prosthetics.” Her smile was soft, not as sweet as Clara's as they traded places, Clara knowingly leaving the heavy door open where the doctor had closed it behind her.

Clara made simple conversation as she performed his checkup until she idly mentioned Jesse.

“What about him?”

“Well I know you like to listen to his music, I was just saying he's doing his rounds today a little late, so you didn't miss anything while Doc Free was in here.”

Hanzo's face tingled as blood rushed to his cheeks and she giggled.

“Maybe I need to mention on your report that you suddenly have a fever?” Her hand was cool as she touched the back of it to his face. He scowled at her which just made her laugh.

“Do you remember anything?”

“No.”

 

“Alright, kiddies, I've got something special for ya today.”

Hanzo could hear Jesse as he talked today. He'd set up on the opposite end of the hallway, just out of the way of the nurses station. Hanzo sat in his doorway, a little further in than normal, leaning his weight on his thighs to peek around the doorjamb.

He felt like a school boy with a stupid crush. He didn't even know what had happened. Ridiculously shy, he did his best to hide from Jesse, but couldn't stand not hearing him play every day. Clara had nudged him on the arm, telling him when Jesse had asked about the 'cute man in the wheelchair'

“What did you say?” Hanzo had looked up at her so suddenly, eyes blown wide in horror as she laughed.

“Oh relax. I just told him you were one of our PT patients. When he asked your name I just shrugged. What else was I gonna say?”

“You could've minded your own business.” Hanzo muttered as she put a clean patch of gauze over the set of stitches on his left side. They, along with the ones on his shoulder, had been scheduled to be removed the next week, the skin scarring over 'beautifully', in Dr. Freeman's terms.

Clara clucked her tongue. “Just admit it. You like Jesse.” She sang under Hanzo's huffing as he playfully shoved her away.

 

Back in the present, Hanzo watched as Jesse gathered the attention of the children, hardly a feat since they were all infatuated with the cowboy.

“Who here knows what an auction is?”

A few of the kids raised their hands.

“Alright, well, I just learned this the other night, known all the words my life, but now I can play it. Now it's real cool, ya hear? It's about this man at an auction and he sees the purdiest dang thing he's ever seen and he's just gotta have it.” Hanzo blanched as Jesse looked over and winked.

Jesse looked over to Clara who had also caught Hanzo's eye and given him a teasing grin. The cowboy snagged her attention, pulling her over to him.

“Alright so y'all know Ms. Clara right?”

There was a chorus of children hollering.

“Well she's gonna help me here seein' as she looks mighty like the woman in this song.”

Clara started to clap, stomping her tennis shoe clad foot on the tiles, dredging up a beat that the children fell easily into. Jesse started strumming the guitar in a fast rhythm,talented fingers sliding up and down the frets.

 

_Well I went down to the Grundy County Auction_ __  
_When I saw something I just had to have_ __  
_My mind told me I should proceed with caution_ _  
_ _But my heart said to go ahead and make a bid on that_

 

The kids were clapping and hooting, Clara was singing along as the chorus started up. Hanzo was watching it all from his doorway, only feet away, but as soon as he looked at Jesse's face, he could tell the cowboy was staring right at him.

He winked and sang the first round of chorus right at Hanzo.

 

_And I said_ __**  
**_Hey pretty lady why don't you give me a sign_ __**  
**_I'd give anything to make you mine o' mine_ __**  
**_I'll do your biddin' and be at your beck and call_ __**  
**_I've never seen anyone lookin' so fine_ _**  
** _ _Man I got to have her she's a one of a kind_

 

He'd begun to step around the kids, carefully weaving through them until he was walking towards Hanzo, all the while keeping up with the fast paced song, much like the auctioneer in the song.

 

_I'm going once, I'm goin' twice, I'm sold_

_To the lady in the second row_ __  
_She's an eight, she's a nine, she's a ten, I know_ __  
_She's got ruby red lips, blonde hair, blue eyes_ _  
_ _And I'm about to bid my heart goodbye_

 

Hanzo was stuck in place, his flight or fight sense malfunctioning somewhere in between that had him paralyzed, his heart beating so fast in his chest that it was easily keeping up with the pace of the song.

Jesse prowled towards Hanzo, stopping to sing the second round of chorus to him, winking before he turned suddenly, striding quickly and expertly back into the circle of children and nurses. Clara was still going strong, clapping and dancing in the circle until the song ended and she bowed herself out of the crowd, making her way to Hanzo.

“What was that?”

She was breathing hard, a smile on her face so wide it was gouging thick lines into her cheeks.

“What? Jesse?” She looked a little taken aback. “You didn't like it?”

Hanzo spluttered, eyes wide as they shifted between Clara and the cowboy who glanced back over at them, a smile on his face as he sang about rain being a good thing. “That's not what I said. I asked what it was.” His hands, usually non expressive, flew about his person as he panicked, heart still fluttering like a bird in his rib cage.

Clara's grin became wicked and she punched him lightly in the arm. “You do like him. Good. Cause that was him asking you out.”

Hanzo stilled instantly. “What?”

“Yeah he asked me if I would help so I could keep the kids' attention while he strutted over here singing to ya. I thought it was sweet.”

Hanzo was at a loss for words.

“You didn't like it?”

“That's not- I don't-” He took a deep breath, trying his hardest, and failing, to calm himself.

Clara's face sobered and she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hey, listen, I'm sorry. I know it must be hard for you, y'know, considering everything. But maybe, since you don't remember who you were...maybe you could try being _this_ you and see how it goes.” Her smile was as gentle as her hand, all mocking gone.

“What if he doesn't like me? Then I'll have more months of hiding in my room.”

Clara rolled his eyes. “Oh psh. Like he's not going to like you. What wouldn't he like? He already thinks you're cute.”

Hanzo's heart started fluttering quickly again. “What if he doesn't like who I was?”

“How is he gonna know? You don't even know who you were. Besides, to quote some old, dead dude, 'the past is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift, that's why it is called the present.” Her eyes glittered. “C'mon, you'll be fine. Just use that ole' 'stretching my legs' line and you'll be off to a great start.” She chuckled at the horror on his face and went to help a kid with unsteady legs get into another line dance position, holding his hands and pulling him gently through the steps.

Hanzo watched the group, his face never having ample time to cool down at the amount of times it heated up whenever Jesse looked over at him, which was a lot. Several times throughout each song for the remaining hour, he'd look over to Hanzo, and his grin would widen or he'd wink at him and throw his head back with a rebel yell. Every time, Hanzo wanted to back away into his room, the monster in his chest tightening in anticipation for when the show was over. He'd challenged himself to a game of seeing just how long it would take him to break and back away.

He somehow lasted all the way through the hour without once touching the brake on his wheelchair. His hands had either tapped along to a beat or rested easily in his lap, knotted together in nervous apprehension. He waited patiently, chest tight, for the parents and nurses to corral the children back in their respective rooms, watching as Jesse stopped briefly at the nurses station to chat. He sat his guitar case on the top of the counter, patting it fondly before turning his gaze back to Hanzo, who was now shivering with nerves, a cold sweat sticking his shirt to his back. Clara glanced over at him, giving him a thumbs up and a bright smile as Jesse walked towards him, spurs jingling with each step.

“Hey, there,darlin'. You come here often?” His smile was plastered sloppily over his face and Hanzo could hear a warbling note in his voice.

He struggled with a quick response. “O-only to uh, stretch my legs.” He patted his stumpy legs where they ended just above the knee, feeling like a child that was swinging his feet from a high chair.

Jesse covered his face as a violent snort of laughter burst from his chest.

Hanzo's face heated up to it's hottest point; he could feel the lava roiling beneath his skin.

“Humorous in light of your predicament. I like it.” His smile softened to one of genuine delight as he leaned against the doorjamb, tipping his hat out of his eyes. He stared down at Hanzo, dark eyes shining. “I'm Jesse, by the way.” He offered his left arm, the one he wasn't leaning on, allowing Hanzo to awkwardly grasp it with his own tattooed one.

“I know. I'm-” Hanzo stopped. What was he gonna say? “Uuuh.” He pressed his lips together, surprised when a laugh bubbled up from his chest. “I actually do not know.” His eyes crinkled with his smile and he used his free hand to rub the back of his neck nervously.

Jesse chuckled along with him, pulling his hand back once it was let go. “I heard 'bout that. Why don't I just call ya darlin'? That okay?”

Hanzo's laughter faded but his smile didn't. “That would be great.”

 

Hanzo watched as Jesse walked towards the elevator, tripping on an extra wheelchair beside the nurses station as he went to grab his guitar when he looked back at Hanzo. The nurses snickered and teased Jesse until he was standing waiting for the elevator to arrive. He waved to Hanzo again before he entered the metal box. He could hear the whirring of the cables taking his cowboy away when the nurses, as one, looked over to Hanzo and started whistling and cheering. That's when he took his leave, releasing the brake to roll carefully back into his room.

 

“So when's your date?” Clara was massaging hospital issue shampoo into Hanzo's hair as he sat in his wheelchair, his head leaning back against the sink in his tiny bathroom. This too had become routine. Every few days when Hanzo felt particularly grungy, Clara would wash his hair in the sink; filling a small tub with soapy warm water to help him sponge himself down, leaving long enough for him to deal with his privates alone. She was a nurse and had helped countless people but Hanzo wasn't completely helpless and hadn't had to ask, she had just known.

“Today?”

Her fingers stopped. “You don't even know what day it is?”

He sighed and did his best to shrug his shoulders in his awkward position. “I mean, yeah. It's today. He said he'd finish his rounds and we could maybe go down to the cafeteria and have a bite and talk.”

“Please tell me you're not going to 'stretch your legs'.”

“You told me to!”

“Oh my God, you said that? When?”

“They were literally my first words to the man!”

Clara was now laughing and Hanzo was spluttering. She flicked water onto his face and he punched her in the shoulder.

“I mean it's not terrible, at least he thinks you're funny. I hope. He didn't think it was morbid did he?”

“He said he liked it,” he mumbled, face warm. Hanzo hoped he blushed as much in his former life with how much his body seemed to do it now.

“I knew he would.” Hanzo did his best to scoop water from the faucet and onto her as she started cackling again, teasing him with “well I hope he likes tomatoes since that's what your face always looks like!”

As they toweled him off, Clara disappeared only to return with a white button up and a pair of tan cargo shorts, both hung on a hanger she placed on the hook on the bathroom door.

“What are those?”

“I was telling my boyfriend about my adorable friend and his first date and he gave me a change of clothes for you.”

Hanzo's hands stilled as he combed them through his hair. “Clara.”

She turned around, her grin fading, confusion stealing over her face. “What?”

Hanzo sighed and brought his hands back to his lap. “Clara, you don ot have to help me in my sad excuse of...well a life, technically.”

She propped her hands on her hips. “Listen, bud, you're the best friend I've had in years and I'm gonna help you even if it means knocking you from your chair and pulling this shirt over your head whilst you attempt to kick and scream.”

Hanzo scoffed but allowed himself to chuckle while she helped him change. The shirt was a little loose around his shoulders and they rolled the end of the shorts twice so that his bandages showed and he didn't look like he was being swallowed alive by his clothing.

“Well don't you look damn near presentable,” Clara said as she stood back, hand on her hip again, admiring her work. She'd brought him one of her hair ties and pulled his hair into a high pony tail. Looking in the mirror himself, he thought it looked more natural than the stringy mess that constantly fell straight to his shoulders, framing his face.

They stood in silence for a moment before Hanzo thanked her again as she bowed out, the beeper on her waist alerting her to the needs of another patient.

“No prob, Sam.” He snorted at her nickname for him.

_“Oh come on,” She'd argued, “the EMT guys said you were dressed in some samurai lookin garb before they'd had to cut you out of it. Sam is a perfect nickname!”_

_“I do not even look like a Sam!”_

_“Oh and you look like a what? Okami-desu-chan?”_

_“Now that is a bit offensive.”_

_She'd rolled her eyes. “Come on, SAM. Let's get your meds in you before you kill me with the daggers shooting from your eyes.”_

 

Hanzo sat in his wheelchair looking down the hall, the clock ticking steadily closer to 2:00. His hands had been shaking so much he'd barely gotten two cranes done before he gave up and sat in his doorway. He watched the children excitedly get into place in the hallway, whispering to each other in barely hushed tones.

He sat there watching...

As 2:00 rolled by...

2:30...

3:00 found the disappointed children back in their rooms, medication distributed, taking naps in dreaming slumber.

3:30 found Clara sitting on the edge of Hanzo's bed as they talked, Hanzo doing his best not to sulk.

“Maybe something happened.”

“He comes every day, why would today be an different?” There was a scowl on his face and he wasn't looking Clara in the eyes. Instead, angrily folding a red crane, almost ripping the wing off before throwing it into the second box, ticking another tally in the '400' column. He threw his hands back into his lap, embarrassed at his feelings. Clara found his hand and tugged it into her own.

“Hey, maybe he just-”

“Was running late?”

They both whipped their faces to the door, where a heavily breathing cowboy stood, holding the doorjamb with his left hand, the other wiping across his sweating face. His barrel chest heaved with labored breath, the top few buttons on his dark shirt unbuttoned to reveal his tanned chest, a few dark hairs showing.

“Jesse?” Hanzo and Clara both exclaimed, one standing while the other straightened like he'd been shocked.

Jesse sauntered into the room, ducking sheepishly as Clara swatted him on the arm as she left the room, turning at the door to grin at Hanzo who flushed visibly.

He turned his gaze to the relieved one Jesse was giving him.

“Hello, Jesse.”

“Darlin'.”

Hanzo smiled in spite of his apprehension that had dissipated rapidly with Jesse's arrival.

There was silence until Jesse ran a hand through windblown hair and began to explain. “Listen, sweetheart, I'm sorry I was late. I had no intentions of standin' you up, believe me. I was gonna play for the kids and everything beforehand but there was a car accident and I was knocked unconscious. They drove me to a different hospital and well...took me a while to get out of there.”

Hanzo's face gained one of concern as his eyes roamed over Jesse's form, taking better care to notice the two butterfly band aids that peeked beneath his shaggy bangs, another bandage barely visible under the rolled up cuff of his sleeve, the limp he walked with so subtle he had not noticed it before.

“Are you alright?” Hanzo's arm stretched out, taking Jesse's hand in his own so he could pull the other man closer to bring him into the circle of light above his bed. There he could make out the bruising and slight abrasions that littered his skin.

Hanzo felt a pang of shame in thinking that this sweet man would ever think of doing something so rude as standing up a cripple.

His fingers soothed the skin on Jesse's bruised knuckles and he didn't need super hearing to catch the sigh that escaped Jesse's parted lips.

“I'll be fine,darlin' but I might actually pass out if ya keep touchin' me the way you are.” Jesse chuckled and turned his hand so that he was holding Hanzo's instead of the other way around. Hanzo didn't object to the help the other man gave him as he gently lifted Hanzo from the bed, placing him in his wheelchair in no time at all. Their faces were close, Jesse smiling at the other man as he lifted up and out of Hanzo's reach.

“C'mon. My initial plan was to go to the cafeteria while no one was in there but dinner is comin' up so we'll just skip on over to the coffee stand in the gift shop. Sound good?”

Hanzo hummed in his throat, too busy giving all the nurses the stink eye as the elevator doors closed over their faces and he saw Jesse's reflection in the highly polished metal, grinning like a maniac.

 

“So, sweetheart, where ya from?”

Jesse had gotten them both coffee in Styrofoam cups that warmed Hanzo's fingers. He'd parked the wheelchair next to a large window near the front doors. The window itself looked out over the edge of the city as it disappeared into the wild woods to the east.

“I don't know. The amnesia keeps me from remembering anything before my time at the hospital.” He remembered Dr. Grant explaining to him that retrograde amnesia was a type that often made the afflicted forget everything up until a certain point, his point being when he'd woken up in the hospital that first day where he'd had to be sedated. He said the memories usually came back on their own, there was just no telling how long the amnesia would last.

He'd hoped that more would resurface as time went on, even something as confusing and frightening as the first recollection.

Jesse ducked his head, his lips sliding in a frown that extended to his forehead. “Man, I'm sorry. I totally forgot.”

Hanzo smiled over his cup, hiding it behind the steam that rose from the rim. “It's okay, I did too.”

Jesse chuckled, swirling the contents of his cup around. “So what can they do?”

The other man shrugged. “Not much. He said usually you can stimulate memories by looking at pictures from your childhood or meaningful items but I was brought in by an ambulance and my clothes were so soiled they threw everything away before I woke up and they found out my prognosis.”

“So no one's come to visit ya?”

Hanzo shook his head. Then he smiled, a small one that canted one side of his mouth heavenward. “Not until today.”

Jesse grinned again, sipping from his own cup.

 

They talked for a few hours until visiting hours were over and Jesse had to wheel Hanzo back to his room.

Hanzo stopped him at the door. “Thank you for walking me to my door. You are such a gentleman.” He looked up at Jesse who's grin was sloppy.

“Aw shucks, darlin'. I don't think anyone's ever called me somethin' as fancy as a gentleman. Mam did once, until I came home with the knees ripped out of my Sunday suit.” They both chuckled until silence washed over them again.

“Thank you again, Jesse. I had a wonderful time.”

“Me too.” Jesse stood there, one hand tucked in his pocket, the other combing nervously through his hair. “So, you wouldn't mind...accompanying me on a second date would you?”

Hanzo was genuinely stunned and barely felt his head bounce evenly a few times as he nodded.

Jesse's grin somehow grew and he brought both hands to rest in his pockets. “Well that's great. Uhm...” He looked down at the nurses station as one of the night staff gave a cough, her dark eyes glaring at him to get a move on.

“Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow. For...the kids y'know. I gotta make it up to 'em somehow.” He backed away slowly, shoulders hunched as the nurse watched him through narrowed eyes until he was pressing the elevator button. Jesse looked back to Hanzo who smiled and waved. The cowboy waved shyly until the doors opened and he was stepping inside, out of Hanzo's sight.

The nurse stared at him until he wheeled himself back into his room and hauled himself back into his bed where he awkwardly changed into his usual attire. He folded the other set carefully, sitting it in the seat of his chair before he settled back into his pillows and drifted off to sleep.

 

The next day found the children waiting patiently for Jesse to show up who strolled out of the elevator doors right on time, like any other day but the one before. They cheered when they saw his bright smile and cowboy hat perched on his head, boots jingling merrily as he made his way to the center of their circle. They had assembled right outside the elevator doors, blocking any feasible pathway between the two wings.

“Hey guys! Sorry bout yesterday. I've got some real good ones for today to make up for it.” He looked over at Hanzo as he pulled his guitar out, winking at him as he tested the strings.

He sang a slew of upbeat songs with catchy lyrics that the kids were hollering in the second chorus. Songs about good times, wild hearts and stealing Cinderella. He had the kids dancing together, twirling around like princesses at a ball, laughing and forgetting about the previous day.

Jesse was winding down, the clock already having passed 3:00 two songs before when he called for everyone's attention. “Alright guys and gals. Now, I don't mean to get all sappy here but...I need your help on this one. There's something I should've done last night and I was too scared to do it.”

Clara looked at Hanzo, eyes wide as she followed the look they shared. Jesse's gaze was mischievous while Hanzo felt his heart ramp up in speed.

“This song is called 'Good Night' but there's something you gotta help me sing cause I might not be able to sing all the words. Now come 'roud close.” He stooped low so he could whisper to all the children clustered close around him. When he finished talking, all the children fell back with a roar of laughter.

“Guys! You gotta help me. Lord knows I need all the help I can get.” They all straightened up the same time he did and he started strumming out the chords as he stepped around them. Their little grinning faces turned towards Hanzo and he knew instantly what Jesse was doing. Not exactly, but he knew he would be part of the finale.

Jesse had started to sing, drawing Hanzo's gaze to his.

 

_I dropped you off_  
Just a little after midnight  
Sat in my car  
Till you turned off your porch light  
I should have kissed you  
I should have pushed you up against the wall  
I should have kissed you  
Just like I wasn’t scared at all 

 

Hanzo's eyes widened and he looked wildly around at all the faces staring at him, met Clara's excited blue gaze. He could hear the little voices behind Jesse as they rose in a round of “I should've kissed you”.

 

_I turned off the car_ __  
_Ran through the yard_ __  
_Back to your front door_ __  
_Before I could knock_ __  
_You turned the lock_ _  
_ _And met me on the front porch_

 

Jesse was suddenly in front of Hanzo, looking down into the other man's eyes who stared up at him. Hanzo barely heard the notes still coming from the guitar as Jesse started to lean down towards him. Hanzo licked his lips nervously, swallowing past the knot that had formed in his throat right before their lips came together softly for the first time.

Hanzo brought his hand up cupping the cowboy's scruffy jaw. The kiss was sweet, chaste in front of such an audience, briefer than either of them wanted it to be.

Before Hanzo knew it, Jesse was pulling back, grinning down at him as he sang the rest of the chorus, his back up singers continuing their rounds of lyrics.

 

_And I kissed you_ __  
_Goodnight_ __  
_And now that I’ve kissed you_ _  
_ _It’s a good night good night baby goodnight_

 

Jesse finished playing the rest of the song, serenading Hanzo as he sat, face burning, in his doorway. At the end of the song, all the children got up and pooled themselves around the two, singing the old 'sitting in a tree' kissing song until they were ushered off by other responsible adults not basking in the afterglow of the best first kiss either of them had experienced.

It hadn't contained fireworks or made their heads spin, but it had been delivered so perfectly that even Hanzo's heart had stilled with peace. It was like coming home for the first time. It was the best feeling he ever remembered experiencing.

They grinned like idiots until it was time for Jesse to leave. They shared another kiss, a longer one this time, one that lingered and had Jesse leaving the elevator doors to close as he jogged back over and stole another from Hanzo's lips before actually leaving.

The nurses were all watching with cheshire grins as Hanzo blushed and released his chairs' brake. “Don't you all have a soap opera to be watching for this kind of thing?”

“Nothing will ever be as sweet as what we just witnessed!” Gloria, the dark skinned nurse with the most soulful singing voice, called to him. He shook his head, chuckling, as he rolled back to the confines of his room.

 

“I start physical therapy tomorrow.”

Jesse had finished his playing for the day and joined Hanzo in the relative quiet of his room. He'd lifted Hanzo into his bed, unable to hold himself back from swooping in to place a kiss to the others' lips; both men had sighed when they'd parted. He now sat in Hanzo's wheelchair, spinning around the room, dizzying himself until he stopped to look excitedly at Hanzo.

“Really? Oh, darlin' that great!” His grin was that clumsy, cute one that Hanzo loved. It made his heart flutter endearingly, emotion welling up inside of him.

“Yeah. I will have regular sessions Tuesday thru Thursday, 1:00-3:00. One hour on Saturday.” Hanzo closed his eyes, concentrating on remembering the information Dr. Freedman had relayed to him earlier that day. He was pleased that some part of his memory seemed to be working. He opened his eyes when he felt Jesse's hand on his face. As he stared into those dark brown eyes until he closed his when their lips touched, he thought that he was okay to have forgotten his old life. If he hadn't he never would've met Jesse. He wouldn't be kissing such a sweet man that caressed his hand over the healed portion where his leg ended like it was the most normal thing in the world.

He'd even mostly stopped making the cranes other than to pass the time. He still kept count, 501, out of habit, ticking the pen down the page in easy repetition; but after spending his days with Jesse, there was no reason to wish his old life back.

 

His new schedule meant that he'd miss his new favorite entertainment he'd started calling “Jesse and Friends”. At first he thought he could finish early and get to his room before Jesse finished but he hadn't thought about how painful PT would actually be.

With the use of his wheelchair and hauling himself in and out of bed, his arms had retained their muscle and tone, but his thighs had lost most of what he had possessed before his time in the hospital. The prosthetics they had ordered for him fit fine with a layer of padding between his skin and the rubber bedding his leg fit into, but pain shot up through his nerves any time he put weight on his new limbs.

His therapist was a sturdy, older man named Darren. He would start their sessions with stretches and preparations for the prosthetics which included a quick massage to stimulate the nerves and muscles to work properly. Hanzo always imagined those pale hands were the tanned ones of his very own cowboy. He'd smile to himself, trying to hold onto it until the pain caused him to grimace as he tried to walk three feet, arms bracing him between two beams that held him upwards if he were to stumble.

Darren would praise him at the end, tell him he was doing very well considering how long he'd been recovering from his other wounds. Hanzo would thank him with a silent nod as he wheeled himself to the elevator where he would be met with the sight of Jesse leaning against the counter talking to the nurses. At the ding of the elevator, he'd turn, that big smile plastered on his face as he accompanied Hanzo to his room.

That was the first week. By his hour session on Saturday, he'd all but given up hope that he'd be released as soon as another few months. His legs hurt even on the days he didn't have therapy and his mood was only lifted when Jesse or Clara were with him. He tried not to drag their mood down too but when they asked what was wrong it was easy to confide in them.

By the second week, his second Tuesday rolled around and Hanzo left the therapy room, his face carved into a frown. He was waiting by the elevator bank when he heard soft strumming from a guitar. At first he didn't think anything of it down on the first floor, but the same moment the elevator doors opened in front of him, the door to the stairwell burst open and out came Jesse, a tidal wave of kids following behind him, tapping hands on the plastic bellies of tambourines.

Hanzo's mouth split open in a wide smile as he turned the wheels of his chair so he could face the ridiculous cowboy and his band of miscreants. People that happened to be milling in the area turned to stare at Jesse as he sang and strode confidently towards Hanzo.  
  
_If you're goin' through hell keep on going_ __  
_Don't slow down if you're scared don't show it_ __  
_You might get out before the devil even knows you're there_ __  


The children came out from around Jesse to surround Hanzo and his wheelchair. They tapped their instruments merrily to the beat that Jesse was putting down, Clara and the regular parents there behind Jesse, one of them holding her phone up to film the scene. One of the kids took the prosthetics in Hanzo's lap that he'd taken off once Darren had left his sight. He didn't even care as the weight of them slid from his lap, he was too enamored with the man that was staring him down as he sang.

__  
_I've been deep down in that darkness_ __  
_I've been down to my last match_ __  
_Felt a hundred different demons breathin' fire down my back_ __  
_And I knew that if I stumbled I'd fall right into the trap_ __  
_That they were layin'_ __  


Jesse came closer to Hanzo, kneeling on one knee in front of him as he continued to sing through the song. The children stopped their tapping and held all of their hands out towards Hanzo, great big, toothy grins on their faces as Jesse's words reeled him in.

__  
_But the good news is there's angels everywhere out on the street_ __  
_Holdin' out a hand to pull you back up on your feet_ __  
_The one's that you've been draggin' for so long_ __  
_You're on your knees might as well be prayin'_ __  
_Guess what I'm sayin'_ __  


The tambourine tapping started back up as Jesse pushed his guitar behind him and wound his arms around Hanzo's middle. Hanzo clung to him as Jesse lifted him up, holding him tightly as he gently swayed side to side, mumbling the words to Hanzo as the children and a few of the onlookers carried on the tune around them.

__  
_If you're goin' through hell keep on going_ __  
_Don't slow down if you're scared don't show it_ __  
_You might get out before the devil even knows you're there_ __  
_Yeah if you're goin' through hell keep on movin'_ __  
_Face that fire walk right through it_ __  
_You might get out before the devil even knows you're there_  
  


Hanzo didn't realize he was crying into Jesse's shirt until he pulled back to kiss Jesse and saw the giant wet spot on the shoulder of his flannel. Jesse kissed him and they both smiled as people whistled around them.

Jesse pulled back and looked Hanzo in the eyes, his own incredibly serious. “Darlin', I know this has been hard for ya, and I know it's just gonna keep getting' harder before it gets better but you know you've got me an' all these little angels lookin' out for ya.” He kissed him again until Hanzo sniffled and smiled, wiggling in his grasp to be put down.

The kids and Jesse took turns bowing for the crowd of visitors that had witnessed the scene and had started to clap. They all split up to ride the elevator up to their floor, each group of kids with one adult each until everyone was safely returned to their rooms on their floor.

Jesse came bustling in through Hanzo's door, grinning like a fool until he closed his lips over the other mans' who was already sat up right in his bed. Hanzo grinned into the cowboy's lips, his hand coming to hold the back of his head, his hat falling off as Jesse crowded himself closer, hungry for more. Hanzo heard the growl in his chest and took the next step to push his tongue into Jesse's mouth. It was a welcome surprise that wound Jesse up but the sound of someone clearing their throat had them pulling apart like some adolescents caught behind the bleachers at prom.

Clara stood there, leaning against the door with her arms folded across her chest. “Hate to break up your little shindig but Jesse, there's a little boy down in the ICU waiting room that Johnathan says could use with some cheering up. His twin's in there and he can't go in to see him.” Her smile was a sad one, melancholy like the reason that had Jesse pulling from Hanzo's weak grasp. Tan fingers trailed lightly across the back of Hanzo's hands before Jesse was smiling out the door, guitar case clutched in the one hand while the other waved a quick goodbye.

The blonde walked over to Hanzo, sitting down on the bed beside him.

“You remember anything?”

Hanzo shook his head as he stared outside the window that faced the city skyline, wishing he could already walk right out those doors and into Jesse's arms and start another life, far away from the one he could care less to remember.

 

“Darlin'!” Hanzo was surprised as the next few days saw Jesse meeting him at the door to his PT room until it, too, had become another routine. If he left PT with a frown, it was always instantly replaced with a smile at the sight of the burly man leaning against the wall.

Today was Saturday and there was Jesse as usual, but today, he had his phone out and crouched beside Hanzo in the hallway to show him something on it. After a flurry of movement and some echoing instrumental music blaring through the phone's speakers, a bright light cleared the image up and there they were, Hanzo in front of the elevators surrounded by kids with Jesse playing the guitar in front of him. He could see the people that had stood behind him now, all the visitors in their street clothes and the nurses and doctors in their scrubs stopping to stare, otherwise hurrying off with a glance to something of more import than two gay dudes in the hallway.

The video continued with the kids carrying the tune as Jesse picked Hanzo up, the stumps of his legs dangling as they clutched each other. The camera didn't catch the tears, wasn't strong enough to pick up the words Jesse had whispered to him. The clip ended when they pulled away from their kiss as Jesse gently placed Hanzo back in his wheelchair.

The screen downsized and Hanzo read the tag line for whatever site is had ended up on: **Children of Hospital Helps Man Serenade Amnesiac Boyfriend Returning From Physical Training with Low Spirits.**

 

Hanzo blinked at the screen, looking to Jesse's sloppy grin before he gets kissed on the cheek.

“Cute, huh?”

“Well you and the kids are but look how sweaty I am. God I look terrible.” Hanzo chuckles, Jesse shutting him up with a swift kiss.

“Hush. You always look good. So good that I feel bad for the thoughts that run through my head lookin' at ya.” He winked and Hanzo rolled his eyes.

“Easy prey?” He starts to roll away from Jesse's baffled face, leaving him to catch up to him at the elevator.

They entered the elevator and Jesse crowded the shorter male into the corner, placing his hands on the arms of the wheelchair as he grinned.

“What?” Hanzo asked, narrowed eyes belying the smirk that played about his lips.

“Did ya notice what the thing said?”

“The thing? What are you, five? You have been listening to the kids too long.”

Jesse rolled his eyes. “Oh my God, sweetheart. The video. It said boyfriend.” His eyebrows danced and Hanzo feigned dawning understanding.

“Ooooooh.”'

“Ooooooh.” Jesse mirrored the other man.

“So?”

Jesse straightens instantly, hand on his chest as if wounded. “So?”

Hanzo grinned wickedly, wheeling himself out of the elevators as the doors opened. “What did you think you were?” Hanzo winked and watched Jesse swoon before rolling to his room, waving to Mrs. Blakely and Gloria on his way.

 

Months passed with Hanzo and his boyfriend enjoying each others' company in the tiny room in the hospital. Months that saw less and less cranes being made for a wish that had ceased to matter. The boxes now sat beneath his bed, the paper of tally marks on top, 130 bunches of tallies ending in the '600' column.

Hanzo got stronger, better at walking with his prosthetics, but he still wobbled without an anchor, still doubting his abilities. He still took them off and wheeled himself up to his room, moreso out of habit than anything else, while Jesse strolled beside him, filling him in on the songs he'd played for the kids, sometimes just filling their elevator ride with music instead of talk.

It was nearing Hanzo's sixth month since he'd woken up in that hospital.

182 days of not knowing who he was.

182 days of creating someone new.

That was roughly 121 days of learning to walk again.

121 days of falling in love with the man that had inspired him.

Hanzo still didn't like to show how weak he still was walking around Jesse. His boyfriend was always telling him that he was there for him, going on about how he didn't need to feel sorry for himself until he silenced him with a searing kiss that had them both pulling back a little dizzier than before.

“Darlin', please?”

“No.” Hanzo sat in bed, his prosthetics still on as he sat on his bed, legs stretched out in front of him. Darren had challenged him to do his stretches before class and turn up with his prosthetics already on. Jesse had come earlier than usual and had just asked him if Hanzo would let him help him before his session. Hanzo had forbade Jesse to come into the sessions with him, even though Darren had consistently encouraged it. _Having a loved one there greatly boosts your performance, wanting to show them how good you're doing._

Hanzo was the exact opposite. Maybe his stubbornness was a trait from his life before, but he was afraid that he would fall under Jesse's watchful gaze, too busy looking for his approval and tripping over his own two feet.

The cowboy huffed and pouted to which Hanzo chuckled and swatted away the hands that reached towards him. “Did you not promise to teach one of the kids a song?”

He smiled as Jesse hopped up, a muttered curse passing his lips. “I'll be right back.”

Hanzo shook his head and continued to read the book Clara had given him as a birthday present, despite the fact that no one knew when his actual birthday was.

It wasn't long before Jesse was back, trusty guitar in hand as he strummed out a bouncing beat that had Hanzo lifting his head in curiosity. He shut the book and crossed his arms over his chest, staring Jesse down as the other man started to sing to him.

 

_Baby, why don't we just turn that TV off?_ __  
_Three hundred and fifteen channels of nothing but bad news on,_ __  
_Well it might be me_ __  
_But the way I see it,_ __  
_The whole wide world has gone crazy._ _  
_ _So baby, why don't we just dance?_

 

“Jesse.”Hanzo tried to stay irritated with the cowboy, but it was so hard when he was singing, swaying his hips to the tune that came from the guitar. Which ceased immediately as Jesse let go of the instrument, slinging it behind his back like he had done so many months ago, reaching his big hands out, inviting Hanzo to grab them.

He really didn't want to, he was scared. Scared of failing, of _falling_ , scared that he'd let his boyfriend down. Jesse continued to hum the rhythm of the song, winked at Hanzo, bending to kiss him, where he took hold to Hanzo's hands and dragged him from the bed.

Hanzo was standing suddenly, his body flush to Jesse's who had his strong arms wrapped tightly around him, holding the bulk of his weight up. Hanzo relaxed a bit, placing his arms loosely around Jesse's neck, swaying with him as he continued to sing the song, his voice lower, closer to a whisper as he bent his head closer to Hanzo's.

 

_Just a little bitty living room ain't gonna look like much._ __  
_But when the lights go down and we move the couch,_ __  
_It's gonna be more than enough_ __  
_For my two left feet_ __  
_And our two hearts beatin'_ __  
_Nobody's gonna see us go crazy._ __  
_So baby, why don't we just dance_ __  
_Down the hall,_ __  
_Maybe straight up the stairs?_ __  
_Bouncing off the wall,_ __  
_Floating on air,_ _  
_ _Baby, why don't we just dance?_

 

Jesse continued to alternate between singing and humming, their foreheads touching as he guided them in a tight circle around the room. Hanzo's feet moved slowly, tentatively; he was unsure of his own abilities but with Jesse holding him, he was no longer as scared. He even closed his eyes and quit watching his feet.

Until Jesse decided the song had ended and he dipped Hanzo, where he flailed, clutching tighter to Jesse who chuckled, cradling the other man to his chest as he pulled them up again.

“Honey, you know I'd never let you fall.” With one arm still wrapped around Hanzo's waist, the other hand tilted Hanzo's chin up so the two could share a tender kiss.

“You're gonna be late.” Clara's voice sang from the doorway as she passed idly by, ducking in quickly to remind Hanzo of the time.

Hanzo growled low in his throat while Jesse chuckled.

“It's alright darlin', we've still got plenty of time.”

“Jesse McCree, you are such a bad influence.” Hanzo pushed from Jesse, heading back to his wheelchair.

“Hey, how about we walk there?”

Hanzo's breath came out in short gasps as he thought about it. He hadn't tried to walk anywhere that wasn't inside of the PT room. His hands began to shake at just the prospect of such a thing. He felt a heavy hand on his hip and pressed back against the warm body that was suddenly behind it.

“C'mon, darlin', I know you can do it. I've got the faith if you've got the patience.” He was turning into Jesse's touch as his lips brushed against Hanzo's pale neck.

They walked to the elevator, the nurses behind their desk quietly cheering, a few kids clapping, as they disappeared behind the doors. Hanzo's legs were shaking, his arms wrapped around Jesse's in a death grip as they stood there, watching the floors flick by.

“Yer doin' beautifully.” Jesse whispered as they exited the elevator and walked slowly to the PT room. Jesse left him with Darren, whose smile was so bright at his patients' progress, it could've rivaled the sun.

 

Another month passed and Hanzo walked down to his PT sessions, hand in hand with Jesse. He no longer used his wheelchair to the point where Clara took it away one day after his daily checkup. She smiled as she rolled it away, congratulating him on how far he'd come and how good he was doing.

On the days he didn't have PT, Hanzo found himself sitting at the edge of the circle of children as Jesse played. He sat with the moms that visited every day, sometimes he'd roll Mrs. Blaklely out into the hall and sit with one of his hands clasped in both of hers as she smiled at Jesse as he crowed out “My Mariiiiiiiiiiaaaaa” for so long Hanzo would've lost his breath and passed out.

His hair had grown out so long in his stay that it now reached a little past his shoulders. It was the perfect length for one of the girls whose hair refused to grow back while she underwent chemo to braid. Every single day she had the strength to. She was too weak to do much so Hanzo would go visit her and allow her to braid his hair, and talk about boys.

“Jesse's got a cute butt.” She'd said one time. Hanzo smiled, imagining the blush that had no doubt crept over her face.

He chuckled. “Yes he does, does he not?”

“He's nice too. You're lucky, Sam,” (Clara had spread the word about her dumb nickname and it had stuck with the kids) “He's so nice and talented. And he doesn't care that you don't have legs. I hope I can find a boy that's like that one day.” Her hands had stilled in his hair, causing him to turn and see the tears streaking down her face.

“Ooooh, honey.” He'd turned, the pads of his knees thunking softly on the tile as he settled down facing her, drawing her into a loose embrace. “No need to cry.” He brushed a soothing hand down her back, doing his best to calm her. There was that feeling in his chest, in his mind, that was now familiar anytime he was with the children. “Hey, Chloe, look at me.” He'd pulled back, staring into her teary blue eyes. She sniffled and wiped her tears away, only for more to flow. “You are beautiful. No matter what anybody says, even yourself. You are gorgeous. You don ot need long hair to be pretty. You just need to be the best person that you can be. No need worry about silly boys. Look at the talent you have!” He pulled the end of his braid and showed her the braid she had just been creating.

She finally stopped crying, a wobbly smile passing over her lips as she touched his hair.

“Besides,” Hanzo shrugged as he turned and sat with his back to her, allowing her to fix anything he'd messed up, “I thought Theo liked you. He drew you that picture of a dolphin once, you like them so much, yes?”

When she didn't rely, he peaked behind him to see her face aflame, a smile splitting her face.

She had just tied the braid off when they heard the first few chords of music come from the hallway.

“Oh no! I kept you!” Chloe looked frightened for a moment before Hanzo stood and helped her into her own little wheelchair.

“Do not worry, he is not gonna die if he does not see me first. Jesse is a grown man, he can take care of himself.” He smiled as he wheeled her into the hallway, looking ahead of them at said man that stood in the circle, already starting to belt out the words of a song he'd played multiple times. The children all loved when the chorus came around.

 

_Let's just lay here and be lazy,_  
Baby drive me crazy  
All I wanna do  
All I wanna do  
Is love you

 

The wavering 'o's' were carried in the tune for so long and in such a fashion that the majority of the song was lost to either their laughter or the chorus as they sang along with it. The girls would playfully point at the boys who would blush and push them away, only to smile and chant the lyrics back at them the next go around.

 

_I got my whole life to change the world_  
And climb the ladders  
Looking at you looking at me  
Is the only thing that matters  
Come a little closer baby,  
We can talk without the words  
Hang a sign on the door,  
Please do not disturb

_Let's just lay here and be lazy,_  
Baby drive me crazy  
All I wanna do  
All I wanna do  
Is love you

Chloe looked up at Hanzo who stood behind her, his hands perched easily on his hips as he watched Jesse creep closer, dancing around the mass of moving children.

_Give me a kiss, from that Elvis lip,_  
You don't want to miss this,  
All I want to do  
All I want to do  
Is love you

 

Hanzo could feel the vibrations of the last word as Jesse kissed him, could hear Chloe giggling beneath them. He heard her exclaim 'Theo!' which had him pulling away to see the little boy scurrying away back into the crowd. Looking down at Chloe who held her cheek, he smiled.

“He kissed my cheek!”

“I told you you were beautiful.”

Jesse knelt down in front of the little girl. “You tryin' ta steal my man? Already got him callin' ya beautiful. Took me a month to get him to even call me cute.” He winked up at Hanzo who rolled his eyes.

Chloe blushed. “No, Uncle Jesse. Sam is too pretty, he's more like my brother.” Jesse let out an uproarious laugh that had Hanzo shaking his head. Chloe smiled sheepishly up at him.

“It isokay, Chloe, I agree. I am too pretty. Maybe Jesse needs more of a manly man. Let us go talk to Theo.”

Jesse grabbed Hanzo as he passed, pressing kisses to his neck and face as his chest rumbled. “I've already got the only man I could ever want.” Chloe grinned as she watched the two before wheeling herself over to Theo, leaving them to laugh with each other.

Jesse pulled back, starting to strum the guitar again as he slipped back through the children getting them back into some sort of order. The next hour was like any other in Hanzo's new life: blissful and filled with music.

He loved it and didn't want anything to change.

 

Of course, just like it had so seemingly long ago, Murphy's Law came around and showed its face.

Hanzo had been at the hospital for almost eight months now and Dr. Freeman stood before him, checking his progress in the PT room.

“You look as if you're doing really well. I think you're fit enough to be released next week.” She smiled at him then, glancing down at the clipboard. “I've just got one more curious question.”

Hanzo knew what was coming before she asked.

“Do you remember anything before your time here?”

Hanzo smiled. “No doctor, but it does not bother me.”

Her expression changed rapidly from shock to acceptance. She nodded once and bowed out of the room.

 

“They said I can go home next week.”

Hanzo lay in his bed on one side while Jesse lay beside him, facing him. They mirrored each other, one arm holding their heads up while their others lay between them, fingers lacing together, pulling apart, caressing. Jesse had taken to spending all his free time with Hanzo, before work, after, lunch breaks if he could make it. He'd told Hanzo early in their relationship that he worked for a construction company. He worked early in the morning, sometimes leaving straight from work if he had overtime to come to the hospital for the kids.

He'd told Hanzo all about himself, not holding it against his boyfriend who couldn't tell him anything they hadn't learned together about himself.

Jesse looked from their hands to Hanzo's eyes.

“Where is home, darlin'?”

Hanzo shrugged his free shoulder. “I do not know.”

“So where ya gonna go?”

“I believe there are places that I can bed down, get a job-”

“No.”

Hanzo was startled that Jesse had cut him off. He stared into Jesse's eyes, a smile creeping over his lips.

“What do you suggest I do then?”

It was Jesse's turn to shrug, casting his eyes down. Hanzo watched a rare moment when Jesse's cheeks flushed under his tan skin. “I mean...if you wanted you could...just come home with me...” His callused fingers rubbed circles on the back of Hanzo's hand, too embarrassed, for once, to look into his boyfriend's eyes.

When Hanzo didn't reply right away, too busy smiling at the prospect of living with Jesse, the cowboy hurried on.

“I mean, ya don't have to. If you've already got a plan and everythin', I'm just sayin' it could be good. Ya wouldn't haveta get a job right away, just work on yer PT at home, we could learn duets fer the kids, but it's just and idea, I'm just-”

“Jesse, hush.” Hanzo brought his hand up to Jesse's face, tilting it so that Jesse could see the toothy grin there. Hanzo kissed the rambling man, lips soft and chaste before he pulled away. “I think that is a wonderful idea.”

Jesse smiled and pulled Hanzo to his chest, wiggling around the bed until Hanzo was laying on top of Jesse's bulk. He didn't fight it, he didn't want to. They kissed languidly until the night nurse was clearing her throat at the door for their attention.

“Mr. McCree, visiting hours are over.”

“McCree? Where?” Hanzo peeked his head up to look at her, a silly smile on his face. She rolled her eyes, a very rare smile flashing over her usually down turned mouth as she left them to straighten themselves out.

Hanzo looked back to his boyfriend beneath him, kissing him again.

It was another ten minutes and another warning from Anita before Jesse reluctantly pulled himself away from his boyfriend and headed home.

 

Over the weekend, Hanzo was surprised that Clara and Gloria had told the kids of his departing and they had set up an impromptu going away party with smuggled snacks and party hats.

Hanzo wore one as he sat between Chloe and another little girl in the circle in the hallway.

He'd brought his boxes of cranes, to which the children had eagerly grabbed up, making a mess as they'd launched them at each other, bird noises of different kinds escaping their smiling mouths.

He'd reigned them in, surprisingly without Jesse's help since it was lunch time, two hours before his usual time to arrive, and did his best to teach them how to make them as he told the story of the legend.

Jesse found them all with half made cranes in the center of the circle as the majority of the children stalked around the room with their arms drawn up like a birds', their party hats over their mouths like beaks.

He chuckled, bending down to place a quick kiss on Hanzo's head. “What's with all the paper birds?”

Hanzo shrugged. “I was wasting my time making them for a wish I no longer have use for.”

Jesse grinned down at him, eyes sparkling as he called for the children's attention and started strumming his guitar.

 

_One, two, three, like a bird, I sing_ __  
_'Cause you've given me the most beautiful set of wings_ __  
_And I'm so glad you're here today_ _  
_ _'Cause tomorrow I might have to go and fly away_

 

 

 

Monday morning rolled around.

Clara was late to clock in, she hugged Hanzo for so long.

“You know where I work and don't you dare think about abandoning these kids or so help me I will hurt you, cripple or not.” She punched him in the arm as he sat in a wheelchair outside, waiting for Jesse to pick him up. He'd wanted to walk out but per hospital rules, he sat comfortably in his chair. All of the children and even Mrs. Blakely had made sure to send him off with a happy goodbye. He had so many hand drawn pictures from the kids that Anita had given him a disposable folder to put them in until he made it to his new home. (She'd smiled at him, quickly, so that the other night nurse wouldn't see that she actually had a soft side.)

Hanzo's chest tightened at the prospect of leaving basically the only thing he remembered knowing. The only thing that was familiar to him. It was his security blanket but he couldn't live at the hospital forever.

It was just after 8:00 when a large red Chevrolette truck rolled up to the curb.

“God Jesse, where did you pick up this dinosaur. I thought Chevrolette shut down to make Omnic parts in the 20's?”

Jesse patted the hood as he came around, a wide grin on his face. “Found this beauty in a scrap yard about ten years back. A lot of the parts are custom made but they work. No finer mode of transportation in the city, I'll guarantee ya that.”

Clara rolled her eyes and stooped to give Hanzo another hug.

“Better come and visit me! Oh and now that you're free, we can all go on a double date! Martin keeps saying he can't wait to meet the bionic man.” She steps out of the way so that he can stand and give her a real hug before he boosts himself up into the ancient behemoth idling at the curb. He waves to her until she's out of sight and they're heading up the street.

 

The ride was nice. Hanzo watched the streets pass by, the window rolled down to allow the window to blow over his face. One hand was holding the arm rest as he gazed out at this new world, the other lay in the middle seat between them, Jesse's clasped around it with his own smile.

Jesse pointed things out to him, pulling Hanzo's hand along, telling him things like “That place has the best ice cream” and “That's where we've been working for a while” as he pointed to a rundown building being added to, a large sign out front stating that in it's finished state it would be another hotel, the towers reaching high into the sky.

It was amazing to Hanzo who, even without his memory, was sure he'd never seen anything much like the city they were passing through. They stopped at a refurbished diner for breakfast. Hanzo was instantly nervous.

“Don't worry if people stare, they'll be lookin at yer pretty face, wishing it was their hand yer holdin'.” Jesse kissed Hanzo quickly before he hopped out of the truck and opened the door for him.

Hanzo did hold his hand, in one hand while his other grasped desperately to his bicep, clutching it to his chest as they walked slowly to accommodate Hanzo's awkwardness at traversing the busy sidewalk just outside.

When they entered, the only people to look up was a young man who looked up hopefully only to frown and look back at the steaming mug in front of him. The other was an older woman in a retro styled outfit that walked up to them, an automatic smile plastered to her face. She glanced down at Hanzo's legs but seemed to not care, especially considering one of her own mimicked his. Hanzo instantly felt stupid that he'd think he was the only one with such an injury, letting go of Jesse's arm while his boyfriend chuckled and led him to their table their waitress had sat their menu's at.

When they're coffee and food came, Jesse watched Hanzo as they ate, a smile on his lips that couldn't be removed, even when he lifted another bite of eggs to his mouth.

Hanzo noticed, lifting a questioning eyebrow. “What?”

Jesse shook his head, grin widening. “Nothin'. Just takin' in how good this is. I can't wait fer this to be another of yer silly routine's.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes affectionately and continued to eat.

The bell above the door jingled and Hanzo watched as the hopeful man from before smiled and stood to embrace a taller man in an army uniform, tears slipping from his eyes. The taller one picked him up, swinging gently from side to side before setting him down and kissing him. They then sat, the hopeful man's eyes no longer sad but glittering as he watched the other man sit down, a smile splitting his face as he watched him.

Hanzo smiled and sipped his coffee, his eyes coming back to rest on his own man who smiled at the look on his face. “What're you grinning at?”

“Something amazing that I will hopefully never experience.”

Jesse's face became confused as he tilted his head to the side.

Hanzo shook his own head and reached his hand across the table to lace his fingers with Jesse's.

 

“Now I know it ain't much, but it's home sweet home.” Jesse bumped the door with his hip and it came open slowly with the weight of itself holding it back as it swung open to reveal the apartment behind it.

Jesse was right, it wasn't much. It had a single bedroom with a small bathroom coming off of it, a living room separated from the kitchen by a bar. A small space to the right of the door held a round dining table that held nothing but guns and various pieces and tools. Another small door held the water heater and stacked washer and dryer. It was a little messy, something you'd expect from a bachelor who had only been there to sleep the last couple of months, spending all other time working or at the hospital.

“Sorry it's a mess.” Jesse flung a coat off the back of the couch, helping Hanzo to sit down. “If ya gimme a minute, I'll tidy up-”

Hanzo grabbed him, pulling him back as he tried to move from the couch. Jesse let out an undignified noise as he was thrown off balance, barely catching himself on the arm of the couch. The mask of shock on his face was quickly wiped clean as Hanzo pulled him down for a heated kiss. Jesse melted into it, moving to place his knees on the floor as he wrapped his arms around Hanzo's waist, a hungry growl escaping his throat.

Jesse didn't get much cleaning done that day. With no nurses to disturb them and no children to scar, they made use of their time and space to feed the flames that had been burning for months.

Jesse was sure to be careful with Hanzo, bracing his weight on his arms as he kissed every inch of skin that he could get to. They took their time to learn each other, to find out what made Jesse's toes curl or had Hanzo gasping the others' name.

Evening rolled around and Jesse made a quick dinner in his boxers while Hanzo sat on the counter, clothing mirroring Jesse's that hid under the hem of one of Jesse's shirts, buttoned wrong but neither of them caring.

This was the life Hanzo had found himself in. This was the life he wanted. He'd forgotten to think about what he might've left behind in those moments, as he stared at the rugged man he'd been falling for since he sang a song about fried chicken and cold beer.

“What're ya thinkin' bout, darlin'?” Jesse placed a tender kiss on Hanzo's chest as he stepped between his legs, arms twining around his waist.

Hanzo slung his arms lazily around Jesse's shoulders and hummed in his throat. “Nothing. Just glad that some silly cowboy likes to sing to children.”

“Some silly cowboy, huh? If I remember correctly, someone likes my silly cowboy charm.” Jesse runs his hands up Hanzo's sides under the flannel that engulfs him. Hanzo chuckles at the contact, not quite ticklish but enjoying his boyfriend's calloused hands roaming teasingly over his skin. In his minds' eye he could see the bruises that littered his skin from Jesse's overzealous attention to Hanzo's body.

“I didn't say charm.” Hanzo's words were breathy as Jesse pulled him closer to the edge, possessive hands gripping into his hips, face buried into his neck.

“But you were thinkin' it.” Jesse kissed Hanzo where they stayed locked until the smoke alarm went off and they called in a pizza instead, only pulling apart to allow Jesse to answer the door.

Hanzo lay in Jesse's bed, the exhausted cowboy clinging tightly to him as he snored softly into his neck. He watched the lights from the city dance across the ceiling as his mind wandered. It didn't have far to go, not many memories outside of the last eight months. The cranes stuck out. He'd been shy of making 1,000 by less than 400, but his wish had come true. Not his initial wish, to know who he had been, but the one he'd subconsciously made as he spent more time with Jesse.

_I wish I could watch him smile every day._

 

“Alright sweetheart, I'll be at work until 1. I'll swing by and if ya want, youc'n come with me t' see the kids. If not, youc'n stay home and laze around in my boxers all day and just enjoy yerself.” He leaned over the bed to kiss Hanzo on his temple in the early morning light. He was dressed in ragged jeans and steal toed boots, different from the spurred ones he wore to the hospital.

Hanzo tilted his head to catch Jesse's lips, holding him there with that simple action longer than either of them expected.

“Sounds good.” Hanzo smiled seeing the way Jesse kept looking back at him with every stitch of clothing he kept putting on. The flannel over his wife beater, the hazard yellow vest on over that.

He dipped down again for another kiss. “I'll see later. Love ya, darlin'.” He hadn't pulled away far, a few inches, before he blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish.

“I didn't-”

“I love you too, cowboy.” Hanzo kissed him again, watched the smile burst from under the red haze that had covered his cheeks. “You will be late. Have a good day.” Hanzo smiled, hugging the pillow to his face as his eyes followed Jesse stumble through the door.

 

That week was the best week Hanzo had ever experienced. Living with Jesse was a whirlwind. There was no shortage of smiles, starting the moment Jesse walked in through the door, sometimes leaving it wide open to scoop Hanzo up and kiss him.

They sat in the living room on the floor, Jesse's guitar in his lap as he tried in vain to learn the chords to a new song they could sing together for the kids. Jesse would get to the second bridge and lean over to kiss Hanzo where they'd fall into something they couldn't extricate themselves from for the next 15 minutes. Hanzo would chastise Jesse, pulling away from his strong arms only to do the same thing moments later when Jesse tried the opening lyrics for the sixth time in a row.

That week felt like a dream.

It was like a dream within a dream. One he wished he couldn't wake up from.

There was no way it wasn't a dream compared to everything that happened afterwards.

 

Jesse had left, like any other day, to go to work while Hanzo rolled over in his bed, feigning sleep while he really just smiled to himself until the sun touched his bare shoulders, rousing him. Any other day, he'd make coffee and tidy up the mess they'd made the night before. He'd shower and open all the windows, letting the wind roll through the apartment.

Any other day and the squeaky floorboard in front of the living room window wouldn't have let out a loud squeal that had Hanzo bolting upright in bed. It had only been 20 minutes since the cowboy had left and Hanzo loved the man but he wasn't the quietest person to ever enter a home. He knew instantly that it wasn't his boyfriend and it had his heart hammering in his chest.

He had never thought about burglars, mind hadn't even considered it a possibility until that very moment. Hanzo rolled over from Jesse's side of the bed, reaching for the prosthetics that were propped up against the nightstand on his side. He kept throwing hurried glances at the bedroom door and had gotten one fastened in place when the door crashed open.

Instinct told Hanzo to duck to the floor, putting the bed between him and the intruder. He was rewarded with the satisfaction of knowing that if he hadn't, the arrow that was sunk into the wall would be in his head.

Surprise lit up his insides along with an unfamiliar feeling that somehow didn't feel completely out of place. In the span of a few seconds, Hanzo's fight or flight instinct defaulted to fight and he had his other prosthetic anchored into place and was mapping out a strategy to get out to the dining room table where Jesse had multiple revolvers he liked to restore in his free time.

He was peering around the bed, tracking the attacker as they approached him. He was dressed in dark colors that blended perfectly with the night that lingered outside. The bow he held was thrown aside as he opted for a close range weapon. The blade sang as it was released from its sheath.

“What do you want?” Hanzo yelled at the intruder as he came closer, slowly, like a lion stalking its prey.

“I want your head, Shimada.”

Hanzo's breath hitched and he almost blacked out from the swirl of images that lit up in his brain like fireworks. His nails dug into the duvet that hung from the mattress as he pulled it down, over himself. The footsteps were barely a whisper on the floorboards but instinct roiled in him again and he moved just in time so that the blade of the strangers' sword sank through the fabric and into the wood instead of his flesh. He burst upwards, knocking the man back with a satisfied crunching noise.

The duvet was now spattered with blood from the mans nose as it was flung away, giving Hanzo only a precious few seconds to bring himself up off the floor, unbalanced as he ran to the dining room table. He picked up the first gun he saw, spinning and pointing it at the bedroom as pain ripped through his scarred shoulder.

He ducked behind the little cover the table offered, hand blindly searching the table top for bullets, pain coursing through his arm as he did so. He quickly found one that surprisingly fit the chamber, lining the chamber with the barrel.

The attacker was already knocking a new arrow onto the string when Hanzo felt power welling up inside of his chest, the same power he remembered from the only memories he had, from the first day he woke up in the hospital.

He stood and let out an animal like roar before he pulled the trigger the same moment the arrow was released. The bullet flew through the air, a double helix of power surging behind it. The arrow disintegrated, the man behind it nothing more than a bloody mass on the floor where his body was only moments ago.

Hanzo let out a shaky sigh before another wave of pain engulfed him and the floor rushed up to meet him. He then saw a second attacker, previously hidden from the rays of the sun that were barely lighting up the room. Hanzo watched, his body unable to move, as they came closer, feet making no sound on the floor. He had been quieter, patient, had seen an opportunity and taken it.

The stunned man tried to move but his muscles wouldn't respond. His breath came in ragged gasps as he watched through fixed eyes as the man crouched into his line of sight.

“Good news. The Clan wants you alive.”

His world went black and all he could think about was Jesse coming home to an empty apartment.

 


	2. Music to his Ears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo's new life has ended with his kidnapping back to Shimada Castle. He loses himself and must struggle to find the man he was before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You got the fluff, now you get the tough.
> 
> This chapter is all about Hanzo overcoming the demons being forced back into him by people that don't care about him.

He faded in and out of consciousness.

There were voices in a language he knew but didn't remember speaking in the time his brain held onto. There were shadows of people walking across the light that pressed through his eyelids; he kept them closed in hopes that it was all some dream and that Jesse would be there to kiss him awake.

“Hanzo.”

He didn't respond. That wasn't his name.

“Hanzo.”

He didn't have a name. He was Darlin' to a man that loved him, Sam to a slew of children and a nurse with tired blue eyes and a permanent smile.

“Shuhei's stun arrow might have had a negative effect on his already addled mind.”

“He is fine, faking. Who do you think it was that checked on the boy when he claimed to be too sick for lessons. He is fine.”

Hanzo listened to the back and forth words without really hearing them. Instinct told him to gather knowledge about his surroundings, including anything the people around him could divulge. Yet his mind was elsewhere.

He was back in the apartment, worrying over what Jesse would do, how he would react to the state of his apartment, empty except for the remains of a body that had no point being there.

A thought occurred to Hanzo that had his eyes snapping open, instantly filling with tears.

What if Jesse thought that body was Hanzo's?

“See, there he is.”

Hanzo's eyes shifted to the smiling face above him, one that was strange but not unfamiliar.

The man looked familiar in the way that you should know someone but can't place where you've seen them before; a nagging in the back of his brain that was still there even when he's informed that he is Iwao, his childhood caretaker.

Another man stood to the other side of Hanzo, looking down with a serious look on his face. Hanzo let himself be examined by this man that turned out to be the Shimada Clan's personal physician.

“Why are you crying?”

Hanzo lay there silent.

He didn't know these people, not any longer.

This was the life he'd lost, the one he'd decided to give up on.

He believed that things happened for a reason and losing his legs had been a pretty great exchange for the life he'd been handed that had then been snatched away.

They questioned him for another few minutes while he defiantly stared up at the ceiling, pointedly moving his gaze when one of them tried to gain his attention. They left, Iwao muttering 'same brat he always was” just loud enough for Hanzo to hear before the door slid shut behind them.

 

Hanzo dreamed of Jesse's voice singing to him from the shadows around the room. Could almost see him walking up to him in those ridiculous spurred boots, his guitar slung easily over his shoulder.

 

_I could stay awake just to hear you breathing_ __  
_Watch you smile while you are sleeping_ __  
_While you're far away and dreaming_ __  
_I could spend my life in this sweet surrender_ __  
_I could stay lost in this moment forever_ _  
_ _Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure_

 

Tears slipped from his eyes thinking of all the things he was going to miss. He would never wake up to Jesse snoring softly beside him, legs wrapped around the empty space where Hanzo's should be. He would never feel his permanent scruff scratch against his own clean shaven face.

Hanzo's dreams were scattered with Jesse's face, his voice, colorful cranes and the smiles of a dozen children he'd never see again. It made his heart clench painfully but it was a good pain, one that told him he had lived. If only for a short time.

 

He could hear Iwao and the physician speaking rapidly in hushed tones many times through his days of lying there; in the moments when dreams shifted into reality and the flock of red cranes dropped from their circling above him and Jesse ceased being a happy weight beside him.

“This is not the Hanzo that left here.”

“He has amnesia, sometimes people reconstruct their whole lives when-”

“How do we fix him?”

“What?”

“I need the Hanzo that ran away. I need the killer we raised, not some mess that lays in bed crying all day.”

He could imagine the scowl on Iwao's face.

 

“Get up.”

Hanzo opened his eyes slowly, lazy gaze coming to rest on the face of the man that had attacked him in Jesse's apartment what felt like years ago. He had no real grasp on time, no way to tell how long it'd been since he last had seen Jesse.

The man that stood next to his bedding had a brooding look on his face, thick lines that spoke of years of staring down his enemies.

Hanzo turned his head away, closing his eyes once more before he was ripped up from the ground. He heard a gasp, heard the door slide open with a deafening crack like thunder.

“Shuhei-”

“His highness is no use to us if he won't take over the Clan. He is just as good dead.”

Hanzo laughed inwardly to himself, a bitter thing that echoed through the empty rooms of his mind. He would greet death with open arms and wait however long it took to see Jesse again. At least then he knew he'd see his cowboy one day.

“He is a brat, he always has been. All he needs is a few days to come to terms-”

“He is a brat that needs to be taught a lesson!” Shuhei shouted, flecks of spit coming to rest on Hanzo's unwashed face. He didn't even flinch, eyes closed as he dangled in the air, held only by Shuhei's intimidating strength.

There was a brief argument between Shuhei and Iwao before Hanzo found himself lying haphazardly on his bedding once more.

 

A few hours passed feeling like days stretching on when he heard someone enter his room and start working on his legs. Curiously, he peeked his eyes open, inclining his head to watch the man as he took measurements such as the thickness of Hanzo's thighs, moving up his body to record Hanzo's height from head to where the scarred skin ended on his legs.

The man didn't comment that Hanzo was awake, didn't make any noise outside of his own nervous breathing and the sounds his hands made as they measured and recorded numbers on a small pad of paper. He left without saying a word.

 

Sometime later, several days and nights of servants taking care of him as they would a paralyzed patient, the man came back, a heavy case supported in his arms.

Shuhei, Iwao and the physician followed close behind but didn't crowd around as the man sat the case down and opened it.

Iwao smiled, face snakelike in its glee. “Ah, I see curiosity had gotten the better of you.”

Hanzo ignored him, focusing instead on the instruments the man was laying out from inside the case. He couldn't see exactly what was inside the black box, but his breath hitched when he saw the man hold up a painful looking instrument.

“Gentlemen, you may want to leave. This might take some time.” The man finally spoke up, looking Hanzo directly in his eyes as he waited for the spectators to leave.

Iwao smirked and lifted his chin. “I hope you enjoy the next few hours, Hanzo.”

They left Hanzo and the man alone, the door sliding firmly behind the men as Iwao chuckled, commenting to the physician words that Hanzo no longer deemed important, his eyes fixated on another instrument that looked like it had no business being anywhere near anyone that wasn't in for long bouts of pain.

 

Hanzo passed out from the agony that was shooting from his legs all throughout his body somewhere within the first hour.

When he came to, the lanterns around his room were lit, banishing the shadows that had crept in with night. His bedding was different and he could feel a weight that he couldn't remember having below his knees. Folding his covers over, he watched as the lights danced over the metal that was now a perpetual addition to his body.

The skin that seemed to fuse into the metal was red and inflamed,sensitive to the touch.

Shortly after Hanzo waking, the doctor walked in, a syringe in hand. Hanzo tried to struggle but was so tired that he had no power to shove the doctor away as the needle sunk into his skin. Fire lit up his veins, causing him to thrash in pain all night.

By the time the sun lit up the sky, Hanzo was tired but fully healed.

“What was that?” His voice croaked, his hand weak as he gripped the doctors wrist when he came to check on him, pulling the covers back to touch the skin around the new additions to Hanzo's body.

The doctor seemed genuinely surprised that Hanzo was speaking and seemed to divulge more information in his shock. “It was a new drug that speeds up the healing process. It drains your strength, diverting all your body's energy to heal the worst wounds. It's something your father go his hands on before his death. He was in the middle of a deal with world leaders when he was killed.”

Hanzo suspected the information should shoot a pain straight through his heart, stop his breathing or at the very least unleash a creature of rage in him. Yet it didn't. The news that a father he couldn't remember had been killed was impertinent. He stared blankly at the doctor until his gaze returned to the flesh he was examining.

That afternoon brought Shuhei to his door.

He threw a bow and quiver of arrows at Hanzo who caught them easily, his strength and hope returning. A bubbling feeling roiled in his chest when Shuhei left to allow him to change into the clothes he dumped at the door. As he pulled the traditional garments on, the left arm missing, granting the archer the unhindered ability to fire accurately, thoughts that contained not only Jesse but of actually seeing him again started to form in his mind.

He had his legs back. He had just been handed weapons. He didn't know where he was, but he could escape. He could-

The door slid open again and there was Shuhei, along with the silhouettes of six other men, all armed.

“Come. Today is the day you remember who you are.”

He gave Hanzo no chance to respond as he turned and left, not waiting to see if Hanzo would follow.

 

“You are Hanzo Shimada, sole heir to the entire Shimada estate and legacy.” Shuhei stood with his sword held firmly between both hands, knocking the arrow that Hanzo shot at him out of the air.

They'd been sparring for hours now, sweat gleaming in the light the lanterns cast that had been lit in the garden they fought in.

Hanzo hadn't had any time to think about any sort of plan to escape. He'd been taking in any information Shuhei had thrown at him in between jarring blows. The words whirled around his mind like the hurricane of a man that ran towards him.

There was too much to process.

He was the sole heir to the Shimada clan that ruled Hanamura with an iron fist. He was a master bowman and trained killer. He could make his body do things he never even dreamed of doing as he struggled just to walk three feet in the PT room at the hospital.

The headache that bloomed behind his eyes had steadily increased in intensity the more Shuhei told him, as if the more the knowledge filled his head, the more it blew out. He imagined tiny cracks appearing on the inside of his skull, waiting for his head to splinter with the intensity of everything he was trying to take in.

 

He had barely fallen on his bedding and closed his eyes before the sun had him up again.

For days, weeks, this routine went on, just another in his growing list of monotony that ruled his life.

Wake up.

Eat a quick breakfast.

Spar with Shuhei until his bones ached, muscles feeling like wet sand folding beneath the onslaught of a tidal wave curling over a beach.

Shut Iwao out with thoughts of Jesse.

Eat.

Spar.

Sleep.

 

This routine went on and on until slowly, Iwao's words ceased being a meaningless hum in the back of his mind.

His thoughts turned from the man who'd been ingrained in his mind to the one in front of him.

Iwao's words drowned out the gentle guitar riffs, fighting Shuhei became the new rhythm his body moved to, no longer languid swaying that had once ruled his hips in a perfect week in a perfect sun filled apartment.

Years passed without Jesse cropping up in his thoughts.

Everything that had been pushed into his mind had shoved Jesse and his guitar to the far reaches of his mind.

Shuhei was the man that woke him up, not with sweet kisses but with barking orders.

Iwao ran his life, not the hospital he used to call a sanctuary.

The hair that grew on his face was trimmed to recall that of his late fathers, no longer a reminder of the man whose rugged beauty had captivated him from the first look.

His hair was cut shorter, still tied back but now with a golden ribbon of tradition, not a fraying tie that had once held blonde strands out of the grasp of uncooperative patients.

 

It had been years of simple changes before someone slipped, bringing this new life crashing down around him.

It was a mistake, something that had come about from Iwao and Shuhei's guards becoming lax.

All three of them, accompanied by their usual body guards, had gone into the village for a festival. Hanzo hadn't left the house the entire time he'd been back in Hanamura, and Iwao and Shuhei were about to find that keeping Hanzo prisoner had been the only thing to keep their hold over him from shifting.

It was a beautiful day, more kites in the sky than clouds, as they walked down the crowded streets. Passerby briefly bowed, showing their courtesy to a man that held their fate in his hands. He'd nod to them, acknowledging them before continuing his way through the festivities.

Shuhei walked beside him, his face drawn down from years of scowling, Iwao setting their pace in front of them.

They never really talked outside of the Clan's business or fighting techniques, the silence as much of a bond as anything else between them, so it was easy to pick up on the conversation of the people milling around them. The guards had allowed more room between them than usual, allowing people to get close, their voices washing over Hanzo.

_“There's master Hanzo. He looks so much like his father.”_

_“I wonder if Genji looks anything like them.”_

_“No, he probably took after their mother. I wonder how he's doing.”_

_“Didn't you know?”_

_“Know what?”_

_“Genji's dead.”_

Hanzo didn't realize he'd stopped walking until the woman gasped and his vision focused. He saw the shocked look on the woman's face as the other explained to her what had happened. Her words were a quick whisper.

_“My husband, before he died, was telling me he was killed almost ten years ago. They covered it up an-”_

“Hanzo. We must be moving on.” Shuhei had noticed his absence and pulled him away from the conversation. He walked back to where Iwao stood waiting.

“Thought we had lost you there for a moment. Can't have you running off again now can we?”

A simple slip of the tongue after so many years of being careful. That's all it was.

Hanzo's brow furrowed and he took a quick step back, bumping into the chest of one of their guards.

“Again?”

Shuhei's eyes were poisonous as he cut a glare at Iwao. The older man smiled, already a master at the art of deception.

“You must have misheard me, dear boy, I said alone.”

Hanzo felt that flight or fight sensation he hadn't felt in years rise up in his chest. It became laborious to breathe and he could feel the guard behind him had not moved; not restraining him, but becoming a solid wall that he was now crowded against with no escape.

In their own little world trying to fix a problem they hadn't had to deal with in what felt like ages, the three men didn't notice the hush that fell over the crowd around them. By creating this problem they had become a target, a bulls eyes in the center of an otherwise camouflaging crowd.

Hanzo tried to calm his breathing, learning years ago, a time he could barely remember anymore, that there was no use to try and make sense of anything they said. Listen to them and everything would be alright, it had to be, it-

The guard behind Hanzo dropped his hands on his shoulders, shoving him to the ground the same instant a bullet ripped through the man's chest where Hanzo's head had just been an instant before.

The guards were now on high alert, aiming weapons around the tops of buildings as they formed a protective circle around the three men they'd pledged to give their lives for. The civilians around them were like a ripple in water, the dead guard the pebble that had created the waves. There had been no sound from the gunshot but when a man drops dead in the middle of a festival, a gaping hole pouring blood from his chest, it tends to create a panic.

For how little this seemed to happen, Hanzo was impressed with how skilled the guards were at both concealing and moving the three men as they ducked their heads, trying to stay out of firing range.

The closer they got to Shimada castle, more guards poured from the building, pulling them safely inside. They were taken to a safe room, where they waited for two hours before a guard came to inform them that the perpetrator had been caught.

“Ah,” Iwao said as he stood, his usual coy smile on his face, “Let us go interrogate our visitor. Shuhei.” He motioned for the man to stand, his smile broadening when Hanzo stood beside him. “Hanzo, I think it best you stay here. We will handle this-”

“With all due respect, if I am to take over, I should witness the measures you take to deal with intruders.”

Iwao's jaw worked for a few moments before he blinked slowly, a snake studying its prey, nodding in silent agreement. “Very well.”

The three men made their way to another room where two guards stood outside the door, weapons drawn. As they entered the room, four more guards stood in the room, two at the back of the room, one by the door and another behind the prisoner as he kneeled on the floor.

He was composed, his face a mask of impassive boredom as he stared up at the men who entered the room. He was dressed in all black, utility belts having been removed from the tactical dressing he wore. The only color was a splash of red and white over the shoulders; an incomplete red circle with what looked to be some sort of skull creating a white v shape in the circle. Any question of who the man worked for was soon cleared as Iwao started to talk, stepping closer to the man on the floor.

“Ah, so Blackwatch has taken a greater interest in the Shimada clan. How fortunate for us.” Hi hands were clasped behind his back, no tension seemed to be occupying his body.

The man on the floor gazed idly up at Hanzo who kept his own face impassive, trying his best to mask his surprise that the man was staring at him and not Iwao who circled him like a shark about to devour its prey. He didn't speak, a valuable soldier who never rose to any bait Iwao tempted him with.

The questioning took hours, the sun bleeding through the sky until the moon replaced it. Hanzo watched the entire process, from casual words of inquiry to bloodied knuckles beating against the dark skin of the man who only stopped watching Hanzo when his eyes closed with his final breath.

Something fluttered in Hanzo and he fought to keep the contents in his stomach where they were. He'd known the family business was not altogether a savory one, still yet to be trusted with any finer details, but he had not known the abilities Iwao possessed in his strive to keep secrets.

The soldier had not spoken in the hours he'd crouched on the floor, had hardly cried out during his interrogation, only taking wheezing breaths through his teeth as blood seeped from his mouth until he finally fell into a pool of his own blood. The fire in Iwao's eyes as he languidly wiped the blood off his own hands scared Hanzo. It was a deep seated fear, one he didn't think he had in him. It was like finding something he'd found covered in dust, so far forgotten he'd not even realized it existed.

Hanzo's gaze flickered to Shuhei, whom had turned away from watching him. Hanzo couldn't tell if he'd seen the flicker of fear in his eyes, praying he hadn't. He could spar with Shuhei all day, both an equal match in talent, but Hanzo greatly feared what could happen to him on Iwao's orders.

“Learn anything?” Iwao's words brought Hanzo back to reality as he stepped in front of him. His eyes caught a glimpse of Shuehi watching him from the corner of his eye before he brought it back to Iwao.

“I do not doubt that one day I can eliminate any threat to the clan, gathering all intelligence possible before doing so.”

Hanzo's mask was wavering but he fought hard to keep it in place as Iwao stared at him.

“Good.”

Fully expecting another arduous discussion with Iwao, it surprised Hanzo when he was dismissed.

Lying down, Hanzo stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep for fear of what would consume him once his eyes were closed. He kept seeing the red tide of blood trickle in from the shadows, scarlet waves lapping at the edge of his bedding throughout the night. He closed his eyes only when the soft rays of the sun dried the waves up, banishing them to the far reaches of his mind.

Sleep came for him, but it was not gentle.

He dreamed of the first memory he had. After all the years he'd spent under the Clans' roof and his past memories still had yet to return.

_The darkness and blood, the shouting and pain that rippled up from his legs as he dragged them across the hard floor. The bow in his hand, the power that welled up in his chest, the shouting as he came to-_

Hanzo sat up, drenched in sweat. His hair stuck to his skin, plastered to him like it had been with blood only moments before. His breathing was rapid, heartbeat like a wild stallion in his chest.

“Nightmares?”

It was too early for Hanzo to feign his nonchalance, he was too frightened to fake in a space he'd been foolish to think was his own. It wasn't hard to see Shuhei standing in the corner of his room, halfway hidden by the remaining shadows the sun had yet to scare away.

Hanzo's mouth was too dry, a desert in the sweaty marsh his body was. He nodded once, hands coming to clear the hair from around his face, smoothing it down until he could bathe and fully gather and prepare himself.

“Shame. You know, my nightmares stopped when the guilt ceased to crash over me in the night. When my actions were no longer appalling and brought honor to the clan instead of shame.”

Hanzo watched as Shuhei stepped out of the shadows, circling the familiar pattern Iwao had demonstrated only hours before. Their gazes lingered on one another, only breaking when Shuhei stood behind Hanzo.

The younger man breathed deep, steadying his breath. He fought the tension that instinctively rushed to his muscles.

“You know that man was trying to kill you right? Men died to keep you safe from well aimed bullets he shot from his gun. There was no wrong in killing that man.” Shuhei placed his hands on Hanzo's shoulders, a touch that was as unique in its administration as it was uncomfortable; one that had him wanting to run away.

Even with the severity of the situation, Hanzo's mind dredged up the memory of the day before. Words that he was sure he'd heard.

_Can't have you running off again now can we?_

It rattled around his brain, distracting him from the reality he needed to pay attention to. Shuhei's hands worked the muscles in his shoulders for a few minutes in the silence the pervaded the room. He squeezed again in finality before the man walked back around to face Hanzo, hands now clasped behind his back.

“I suspect you still need some training in the art of silencing pesky thoughts that might confuse you from what's really happening.”

Hanzo found himself nodding, apologizing for any slip in character he may have had.

 

A few more months passed. Every day was the same as it had been for the last few years, Hanzo's mask fell easily back into place; but now it was like he was awake beneath it. It felt just like a time he had forgotten about, somewhere white and cheerful. Somewhere he'd been taken care of, given a sedative until he could function without it. That feeling of coming out of a drug induced sleep, that's what he felt now.

His heart beat quicker now, vigilance constant, his sleeping even became lighter on the nights he was able to fall into a slumber full of blood and death. One time he woke with a start, tears on his face from where he'd dreamed of a man he struggled to remember lying in the pool of blood, the strange insignia plastered on his shoulder.

Sometimes, when he did wake from a fitful drowsing fit, he'd get up and walk around what had ceased to feel like a home. He would catch guards watching him from his peripherals, making no move to acknowledge the fact he knew he was being watched in his own home. He'd meditate in the garden most mornings, waiting for Shuhei or Iwao to find him and lead him to some sort of lesson with each of them until he found himself back in his room, preparing for sleep he knew would not come easily.

He tried once asking about the man he'd heard the women talking about. He'd already searched the house for proof of another child of Sojiro Shimada but had found none. He either didn't exist, or his suspicions were correct in that it was being hidden from him.

“What happened to Genji?”

Hanzo had asked one day when Iwao had come to gather him for another day of learning to run the company. He'd heard Iwao's footsteps stop abruptly, in surprise, before he heard the man chuckle. An unbidden shiver coursed its way up his spine.

“Where ever did you heard such a name?”

Hanzo's eyes stayed closed, still feigning post meditation relaxation. “That day at the festival. Some women were talking and I overheard them. They briefly debated who he looked more like: my mother or my father. Then proceeded to state that he was d-”

He'd let his guard down, allowing Iwao time to place a blow to the back of his head, knocking him to the ground. He'd learned that day, as he looked up at the silently enraged face of Iwao, not to underestimate the man.

“Genji is no one of your concern. Be lucky you are not like him.” The day was rescheduled and he sparred with Shuhei, yet with a concussion, it felt more like a beating; a punishment for asking a forbidden question.

 

The weather was becoming milder, waking up from the winter slumber it had fallen into. Night had begun to fall and he'd been granted the ability to bathe, making his way back from doing so when it happened. Guards rushed through the hallways, ignoring Hanzo as he deftly stepped into an alcove saturated in shadows. He could hear the unmistakable sound of gunfire as it blew holes in the quiet serenity of the night. People were shouting; orders not fear. He could hear his name being called, people worrying where he was as he snuck through the halls to his room.

He dressed quickly, pulling on traditional robes he felt most comfortable in, tying his hair up with the yellow ribbon that he'd been given from his mothers' personal collection. Now that his mind was clear, he was sure it had been a well concealed bribery.

His mind reeled as he dodged around guards to where his bow and quiver were kept. Lock and key meant only moments to force his way in.

Now armed, Hanzo breathed easier knowing he could protect himself on his way out of the house. The whole place was lit up now, no shadows to cling to, their plan to get the attackers out in the open. There was nowhere for Hanzo to hide so he kept close to the building, listening hard for the clumsy footsteps of the guards so he could sneak around them.

He was preparing to mount the outer wall of the property when he heard Shuhei.

“Where do you think you are going, Master Hanzo?” The last two words were spat like Shuhei was trying to rid himself of a nasty taste in his mouth.

Hanzo spun, easily knocking an arrow into place and aiming it at Shuhei's chest.

“Who is Genji?”

Shuhei laughed. “You are running for your life and still bringing up that old ghost?”

“Who. Is. Genji?”

Hanzo's mind had been taken up with the mystery of the man and, now that he had the chance, he wanted answers before he fled. It had been the driving factor in his split decision to run. Between Iwao's ill placed words, the guards watching him constantly and Iwao's anger at his asking, Hanzo knew something was wrong. He could feel that there was a happier time, although something was blocking his mind from remembering anything from before the two men who'd ruled his life for more years than he actually cared to remember.

Shuhei laughed again, the sound eerie with gunfire punctuating every syllable. “I told Iwao you were too much trouble than what you are worth.” Shuhei's smile grew at the look of confusion that flitted over Hanzo's face.

“I am going to tell you a story. It is about two little brats, two brothers that had life served to them on a platter and went and threw it away for the sake of some stupid notion their silly mother placed in their heads at an early age.” As he talked, he paced, back and forth like a hungry cat. His blade was sheathed but Hanzo knew that didn't mean he was an open target. “Now the oldest brother had some sense about him. He learned quickly, listened to direction well, was the obvious, and legal, choice to take over when their old man passed. Their mother passed and the youngest went a little berserk. Started to cause trouble around the house, making everyone's jobs harder. He was then given a penchant to keep him out of his brothers way, so that he wasn't a hindrance. Well, when they got older, I don't know, maybe early and mid twenties, their old man followed his wife to the grave, leaving the council to deal with the children. 'But they were not children' yes they were. They did not care to take over so they didn't know how. The council have this....way of getting into a person's head, but only if they have a long, uninterrupted time to spend with them.”

Hanzo's head spun. He wanted to vomit. Flashes of memory were rushing through his mind, nothing but quick smiles and bright bursts of green, but they made him dizzy. Shuhei watched him, eyes narrowed, smile snakelike as Hanzo's hold on his bow grew lax, the head of the arrow dipping to point at the ground instead.

Shuhei continued his story. “Fortunately, the youngest brother decided to run away for a few months, his father's top men dispatched to bring him home. They couldn't have a liability like him roaming the countryside blathering to anyone with enough interest about the clans' secrets. This was the perfect setting for the oldest brother to fall under the full influence of the clan council. No one to bring him back from the...almost hypnotizing way they spoke during his lessons. Now here comes the fun part.” Shuhei stopped his pacing, standing right in front of Hanzo who barely stood now, his face a mask of pain and confusion. Shuhei leaning in close, his voice barely audible over the gunfire that still peppered the background. “The younger brother was found, somewhere in the states, some midwest city, I do not quite care to recall exactly. The men dispatched to bring him home were dealt with, put down by his own hand, quite the scandal for the clan. So, they sent their new and improved assassin. Someone that could get close to the boy and deal the killing blow before anything was suspected.” Shuhei paused for effect. “All went well. The older brother killed his younger sibling.”

Hanzo looked at Shuhei through the red haze that had filtered over the memories, over his vision. “Hanzo....you killed Genji. You killed your own brother.”

Hanzo cried out and felt himself falling. His knees hit the grass and his hands flew to cover his ears. He could see the memories, hear the screams as a man with neon green hair took their lives, his face hurt and confused as he looked directly at Hanzo. He could see the arrow pointing to the boy, the man, the child, could feel the power surging in his chest. He could barely hear Shuhei as he began to talk, his voice breathy as the words flowed swiftly like a river.

“You killed him Hanzo, but not before he wounded you. He took your legs, but you took his _life.”_ It was hard for Hanzo to breath as he struggled against the feeling that was attempting to make its way out into the world, ready to rip Shuhei to shreds.

“Now that was amazing, we were ecstatic when we happened upon the scene, but confused. You were gone. Nowhere to be found. There was the remains of Genji and your legs, which was, actually quite humorous despite the situation. But we couldn't find you. 8 months we searched. Did not know where you could be. We had our men searching every hospital data base for you or some alias you may have come up with to hide your identity. We had no reason to suspect you had been compromised. No reason to think that you were holed up within ten miles of the warehouse in a hospital with amnesia, fawning over some silly cowboy surrounded by a bunch of dying children.”

It was like his heart was being restarted it beat so hard. Like he'd been drowning and now he could breathe again.

_Jesse._

The single name that passed through his mind brought with it the sweet melody of jaunty tunes being rung out from the strings of a beat up guitar. He could see the children, hear them sing off key as they filled in the words Jesse couldn't sing cause his lips were pressed firmly to Hanzo's.

“When we finally found you, it was because of a video one of the guards happened to be showed by his child at home. It was several months old, no longer 'trending' or whatever social media does. But he recognized you. You did not look the same, a pathetic scrap of a man that could not even hold back tears as some scruffy cowboy hoisted you up as you clung to him like a scared child. It made me sick seeing all those years of hard work fall apart. You were not Hanzo. You were some nameless man that was no longer worth the time and effort it would take to extract you.” Shuhei spat on the ground in front of Hanzo.

“But Iwao thought otherwise. You were still alive, no doubt about it, and for how cunning and manipulative the man is, his weakness is loyalty. Loyalty to a man that was dead. Knowing you were still alive meant that there was still an heir to the company, still someone that could take over and produce offspring to take over after him, so on and so forth.” Shuhei was bored now, accentuating his words with flairs of the wrist that only happened when he was itching to draw his blade; nervous energy expelling itself unconsciously.

“So by that time, you had left the hospital, but wait! You returned with the cowboy and it was so easy to follow you home, wait until your lover was gone, and make our move. It was unfortunate that you used your full power, more so out of fear I think, to wipe my companion from the face of the earth but, it proved a good distraction for me to take you out.”

The last three words were punctuated by swift kicks to Hanzo's middle where he now lay on the ground, his face pressed to the grass. His breathing was rapid, chest squeezing painfully. He curled in on himself, memories swamping him so thoroughly that he had no response to the pain that burst in his side; a feeling that was sharp but not long lasting.

Shuhei said something else that fell on deaf ears as Hanzo struggled with the flood of feelings and images in his mind. He only responded when the sound of Shuhei unsheathing his blade cut through the roar in his mind.

“Too bad we wasted the last few years only to have you die at the hands of a Blackwatch agent.”

Hanzo could say that after the last few minutes of finding out just what kind of monster he was, had been, he'd be okay with dying. He'd killed his brother, and he deserved death.

But then he'd remembered Jesse. The kind cowboy that had fallen in love with a broken man. The man that sang to children so they didn't feel the weight of the world crushing down on their tiny shoulders. The person that he wanted to see again.

It was almost theatrical, the way his thought process took in Shuehei's words.

The Blackwatch agent from month ago.

Lax security tonight that coincided with the one time a guard wasn't watching Hanzo.

The seething hatred that accompanied every word Shuehei had spoken in the short time they'd been unaccompanied.

Hanzo's eyes snapped open. His bow lay within his reach.

The look on Shuhei's face when his blade connected with the bow was the only time Hanzo had seen confusion on anyone's face the last few years.

Hanzo lay on his back, the bow barely an inch from resting on his neck. It took immense strength to force the bow up, the blade sliding off his own weapon.

The fight between them started then. The battle they had been unintentionally waiting for. Hanzo was quickly drenched in sweat, his earlier bath now wasted. Shuhei was nothing if not a skilled opponent, expertly deflecting any arrow that Hanzo shot at him.

Without fail, Hanzo reached for his last arrow, scowling outwardly when he grasped nothing but air.

“Thought I'd taught you to keep count of your ammunition, Hanzo.” Shuhei taunted, coming at Hanzo with his blade raised, ready for an attack. Hanzo's chest squeezed, the constant pressure he'd been feeling ready to burst from his chest.

With no more arrows, Hanzo was forced to dodge Shuehei's offensive attacks, rolling through the grass until he was in the same spot he'd found himself in when the fight had begun.

“See, with you gone, there are no more heirs, and Iwao will have no choice but to permit me to take over. The council is made up of old men just like Iwao, but me, I have got plenty of life left in me to find a bride to give me the heirs I will need to make sure this glorious empire your father built stays alive.”

Hanzo listened to Shuehei's words, rage building in him with every syllable. He watched as Shuehei stood his ground, could see the muscles tense, both trying to gauge the others' next move. Hanzo heard shouting, different in what had been going on from the house. The noise was moving, progressing to their position. A light shone directly at them and that's when he saw the sliver of light glinting off the arrow by his foot.

The pressure in his chest was almost unbearable as he dropped to the ground.

Time slowed as Shuhei rushed at him, mouth open as a shout escaped him.

Hanzo's hands seemed to move on their own as he brought the arrow up, knocking it into place.

It wasn't hard to sight Shuehei and release the fletching, his mind filling with a blue light as his mouth formed words he wasn't aware of uttering before.

He watched as Shuehei was instantly consumed by the raw energy that ripped from Hanzo's chest, his soul. There was nothing left in the space Shuehei had been except a bloody spot on the grass that shone in the security lights.

Hanzo was drained and desperately wanted to fall to his knees and pass out. He could hear the shouting of the men racing towards him. His muscles ached and he was shaking but he mustered the strength to scale the wall and disappear into the night.

 

He was being followed, he knew it. It wasn't something that he needed to be told. Months after his escape, he got it out of one of the men after him that he was now considered a dead man walking. After his disappearance and Shuhei's death, Iwao had ordered, what were now, his men to bring in Hanzo's head.

“He wants you dead. He is tired of wasting time trying to turn you into the perfect ruler. You are as good as dead.” His conscious no longer bothered him when he silenced the assassins that had been sent to kill him.

It was thoughts of Jesse that kept him going. He didn't know how much time had passed, all he knew was that he missed the man so much his heart seized up with desperation at seeing him.

He hopped a cargo ship to America, the best sleep he'd had since running. With no one on board looking for him, it was easy to conceal himself, stealing food when he needed it, entertaining himself with bittersweet memories; folding tiny paper cranes from packaging slips that fell to the ocean once finished.

Hanzo would lay in whatever new crevice he'd found, most of the time staring at the stars as he allowed his mind to wander, unraveling the pasts he'd forgotten.

There were visions of him chasing a younger boy through the gardens he'd meditated in not so long ago.

The bloodied ones that had him flinching back to reality, breath escaping his lungs with such force he felt he'd been suffocating only moments before.

Then came the sweet ones he lingers on the longest. He tried his hardest to remember the words to the songs Jesse had played him, fisting his fingers in his hair in frustration when no words came to mind.

The childrens' smiles had him mirroring them, buoying his mood when he slipped back into the darkness that had devoured the last few years of his life.

 

It didn't take him all that long to make it to a hospital in Texas. His memories had been reliable in remembering the crest at the top of his release papers, the name following behind like duckling behind a proud mother duck.

He could remember the structure as it had been when he'd been there, the shock at the sight of a chain link fence around a mountain of rubble almost doubling him over.

Signs littered the face of the fence, warnings halfway covered up with pictures and notes, all about, or to, the dead.

_Dad, I wish you were still here._

_Sandra, our anniversary was today. Wish you were here beside me._

_If I hadn't broken your arm, you'd have been home._

He read all of them, clutching at the ones that had fluttered to the ground, trapped under stray rocks that someone had used to weigh them down. His tribute to the dead was the time he spent reading over every piece of paper.

His heart wrenched when he saw the picture of a boy, older than when he'd last seen him, the unmistakable birth mark splashed across his face too rare for it to have been anyone but little Theo.

Hanzo threw up what little he had in his stomach when he found a worn wooden cross, a pile of flowers, all stages of withered, dying and new, the words _Clara Dawson_ etched into the weathered wood. There was no picture but he didn't need one to remember the exhausted but ever bright blue eyes, the sunshine colored hair that fell to her shoulders in the rare days she'd forgotten to pull it back.

He hadn't cried in years, but there was nothing holding back the tears that overwhelmed him, spilling down his cheeks like waterfalls as he crouched in the ash and dirt. It was well into the night before he left, working his way through the fallout city until he was sure he'd found where the apartment he shared with Jesse was barely standing. The building itself was black and it was a wonder how it was actually still upright.

His armored feet barely made any sound as he picked his way up to the fourth floor where he found the door to the happiest place he'd remembered being. The door itself was almost disintegrated, the hinges holding up something that was more ash than wood. The rooms beyond that were almost nonexistent, the moonlight bathing everything from the crater that had removed the majority of the apartment. The floor creaked beneath his weight, the floorboards falling into darkness where the bedroom used to be. The kitchen and dining area were the only things left, ghosts of the sunlit rooms they had once been.

He lingered there, spending the night lying in the space behind the door, looking out to where he allowed his dreams to recreate the memories he'd created there.

 

Years passed with no companion but the images Hanzo replayed over and over in his mind. In the next town over where the remaining residents had been relocated from the fallout, he'd learned that at the start of the Omnic crisis, the city had been bombed several times. The hospital had been first, a strategic move that had more people flocking to the sight to rescue those that might still be alive, only for a second bomb to descend on the smoking structure, destroying it and hundreds of lives simultaneously. By what Hanzo could piece together, it had been mere weeks after his disappearance that this tragedy had happened.

So much had happened since he'd been taken, so much that had gone unknown to him in his isolation in Hanamura. Reminders of a time passed showed him the upstart of an organization that struck a familiar chord.

Overwatch.

An organization that had sprung up to rid the world of chaos, only to fall at the hands of a creature of its own making.

Blackwatch.

He spent his time using his skills to track down and eliminate any affiliation to Blackwatch that he could find. It was arduous work that kept him busy, kept him going. It kept his mind from thinking about the scenario where Jesse had been in that hospital when it had been bombed, if not the first time, then the second.

He'd also started a new tradition, to go back every year, hopping whatever transportation to get back to Hanamura, to pay homage to his fallen brother. Every year he'd sneak in, making fools of the lumbering goons that now guarded his old home, to burn incense and pay his respects to Genji.

It was there that he met the first challenge he'd fought in years. An armored assassin that was a match, no, better than him. He'd learned to harness the power that built in his chest, gaining the ability to control the dragon inside of him. He'd done his research in his travels, heard the myths, the legends, learned of his ancestry and what he was.

It wasn't until the green dragon erupted from his opponent, driving the usually deadly force back at him and he fell to his knees, accepting his fate, that he learned his life still had meaning.

“I will not grant you the death you wish for. You still have a purpose in this life...brother.”

 

Hanzo had forgotten what the fluttery feeling in his chest was until he was in the elevator with his brother, about to meet the recalled members of Overwatch. As soon as he felt it, it filled in those missing spots in the memories of waiting for Jesse to play for the children, to kiss him, the first time they experienced fully being together.

He hadn't mentioned the cowboy to his brother. It hadn't seemed pertinent to the history between the brothers. They'd reconnected, hesitantly. Hanzo had briefly recounted his time at the hospital, to which he'd found it had been Dr. Ziegler, the doctor that had saved Genji's life, that had contacted emergency personnel, effectively saving his too, before fleeing with what had remained of Genji.

The bird that rattled his rib cage stilled briefly at the sight of so many people milling about the room they stepped into.

Most of them regarded Hanzo with tight lipped smiles and no warmth behind their eyes. They'd been told that Genji's older brother was joining the team. They all knew it was the same brother, the only brother Genji had, that had created the bionic man that stood beside him now.

Winston, the head of the team, welcomed him and introduced the members that lounged around the room.

“This is only part of the team. We've got some members out on a mission and a few that...decided not to show up.” Winston's face was sympathetic but Hanzo dismissed it as politely as he was capable.

“It is alright. I do not blame them.” His smile echoed the ones around him.

 

Later, after Genji had showed him around, leading him to his assigned room, Hanzo roamed the compound late in the night. He couldn't get the oddly blissful feeling of not being watched in a place that's safe. The paranoia was still there, but not the constant feeling of eyes on him.

It was nice to wade through the moonlight that filled the corridors of the building. His feet clicked softly on the tiles, the only sound that accompanied him on his nighttime stroll until he found his way outside.

There, he heard a familiar twang on the breeze.

It had his head lifting to the roof where he could barely make out a pale column of smoke lifting to the heavens.

Hanzo scaled the wall, straining his ears to make out the words he could hear the closer he got. A soft voice lifted above the notes, barely audible against the plucking strings. It tugged at Hanzo's heartstrings the closer he got, memory flooding with words he hadn't been able to remember until that moment.

He saw a man cast in shadow, leaning against an air vent. Moon beams glanced off metal that was the man's left hand, scrambling the thoughts, the hope that ran through Hanzo. He almost turned to silently leave until the bridge came out of the darkness.

 

\--- _through the yard_  
Back to your front door  
Before I could knock  
You turned the lock  
And met me on the front porch

 

Hanzo's breath caught in his throat with a choked sound.

The strumming on the guitar stopped immediately.

“If yer hear to shake hands and make me believe yer sorry about what ya did you yer brother, you'cn turn now and leave me be. Not plannin' on helpin' pull you outta the hole you've fallin' into.”

Hanzo cried for the first time since seeing the remains of the hospital. Great choking sobs that he tried to cover with a hand over his mouth. He stepped closer, barely registering movement as the man straightened his spine.

“I said-”

He turned and stood, flinging the majority of his face into shadow, but Hanzo didn't need light to see the man's face. He'd been dreaming of him for years.

“But you told me you would never let me fall.” Hanzo's words were punctuated with stammering and tearful, wobbling words. He could feel his shoulders shaking. He'd never cried this hard and felt like a child for doing so.

Hanzo closed his eyes, unable to make out anything from the misty quality the world had taken on. His ears were full of blood rushing and he gasped when arms were around him, pulling him to the hard chest he hadn't felt in ages.

Suddenly, they were both crying, clinging to one another.

“I thought you were dead.”

“I hoped you weren't.”

“I didn't know what happened. I came home and there was blood, the apartment was wrecked-”

“I saw the hospital. I thought-”

Their words clashed and writhed around and through each other until neither could tell what the other was saying. When Hanzo quit shaking for the most part, he pulled back so that he could look into the face of the man he loved.

“Jesse.”

He placed a hand on the aged face, his thumb dragging over scarred skin. His beard was full now, no longer the scruff he'd had when they met. There were shadows beneath his eyes that had nothing to do with the dark and tears in his eyes that pierced Hanzo's heart.

“I didn't know it was you. They said Genji's brother and I thought you were dead. No one knew your name back then we just...” Jesse's words disappeared as he brought his face to Hanzo's, gently placing chapped lips to equally dry ones. They didn't deepen it, there would be time later for that. This was their first kiss in another lifetime. One that was just as scared and hesitant as the first one from so long ago.

They pulled back and Hanzo smiled through the tears.

“I understand. I would be mad at me too.” The sweet moment was tinged with the undertone of sadness as Hanzo thought about his brother and what he'd made him into.

Jesse smiled, rubbing a rough hand over Hanzo's cheek, cupping his jaw as he stared into his eyes. They stood in a comfortable silence for a few long heartbeats before Jesse spoke.

“So. Hanzo, ya come here often?”

Hanzo chuckled, voice bubbly under the tears, and closed his eyes, sinking into the lost feeling of Jesse holding him.

“Only to stretch my legs.”

The bark of laughter Jesse released was like music to his ears.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoyed my babies and their whirlwind adventure of love, loss and finding one another when the world tries its best to keep them apart. 
> 
> Thank you so much for staying with me til the end, I really do hope that you enjoyed this child of mine. 
> 
> :3

**Author's Note:**

> So I died a few days ago when fanart was made of this fic!
> 
> http://thedoormann.tumblr.com/post/159944920568/im-sold-to-the-lady-in-the-second-row-shes-an
> 
> Go check them out, amazing art! If it took writing this to find another great artist, I'm glad I did! Hope y'all love McCutie as much as I do :3


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